


Captured

by crystal_lychee



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mentions of childhood abuse, Redemption, Romance, Slow Romance, Violence, adding tags as they go, happily sadistic reader, liberties taken with literally everything, typical guzma stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 71,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystal_lychee/pseuds/crystal_lychee
Summary: You just wanted to catch and befriend some Pokémon but end up catching and befriending a certain white-haired troublemaker with problems stacked to the ceiling.Guzma just wants hair dye. But now he can't get you out of his hair, and he can't decide if this is a disaster waiting to happen or a blessing in disguise.Otherwise known as:An ex-champion and ex-gang leader. The question isn't what could go wrong, it's what could possibly go right?





	1. Salandit Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You want a Salandit and Guzma just wants some hair dye that he doesn't have the funds for.

_ In Which the Retired Champ wants a Salandit _

 

You were only too happy when you had passed on the mantle of Champion to Hau, who you believed truly deserved the title because frankly, the job just wasn’t for you. Not that you disliked battles or anything like that, but your passions lay elsewhere. So when you finally retired, which was only really a short month with Champion responsibilities, you were more than a little excited to revisit the different places around Alola you hadn’t been able to before.

 

Thus, with a backpack slung across your shoulders and your familiar partners’ Pokéballs clipped to the belt on your hip, you began a different journey. As soon as you were clear of any major roads, you didn’t even have to do anything for most of your partners to explode out of their respective capsules. It is basically constant pandemonium with the giant ones and the little ones all running or flying amok through the grass and skies if they could.

 

You restrained the urge to get them to behave slightly more becoming of the ex-Champion’s star team since it was the first time in a long time that they had basically free reign to do whatever they wanted. Unlike your other partners, Snorlax and Primarina remained within their Pokéballs likely because of laziness for the first, and an inability to move around properly for the second.

 

To be honest, you already had a specific destination in mind when it came to it; there had been a specific Pokémon that had been terribly evasive while you had been doing your island challenge. Not that you were in a particular rush when you had been doing the challenge, as you were just doing it for the sake of doing something. But after spending close to two days wading about the tall golden grasses, you called it quits when it came to even _finding_ a female Salandit.

 

But not today, this was going to be the day that your goal would come to fruition and there was absolutely nothing that would stand in your way. It didn’t take too long for you to get to Akala Island, just a bit of lengthy ride across the ocean atop of a Charizard. Instead of encouraging the giant orange lizard to fly quicker as you usually did, you sat back and enjoyed the rush of sea breeze that tangled in your hair. Your days as Champion was filled with busy schedules and other tasks, making you rush from place to place. But you were never someone who cared much for a fast-paced life, you enjoyed a calmer approach. 

 

You dropped yourself at Royal Avenue, knowing that it was one of closer stops to Wela Volcano Park where Kiawe held his trials. Not bothering to check out the Battle Royale, you headed straight into the Pokémon Centre and picked up a few supplies that you thought you might need. However, when you did step into the building, you felt that the air was charged with some residual tension. Nurse Joy could be seen wringing her hands behind the counter in a familiar nervous gesture.

 

“Hey,” you stride up confidently to the seemingly frazzled woman, “What’s with all the hubbub?”

 

Nurse Joy smiles slightly at your presence, “Just an unexpected visitor, unfortunately, it seems that most still feel uneasy about him. I can’t deny that I too am one of those people, as disappointed in myself as I am.”

 

You tilt your head to the side slightly in confusion before the answer clicks in your mind, “Don’t tell me…would this visitor be an ex-gang leader?” You reach onto your belt to release your Ampharos from her Pokéball to heal her up a bit and make sure she would be ready for today’s task. “What in the world is he doing here?”

 

Nurse Joy rubs the bright yellow Pokémon absentmindedly as she replies, “Your guess would be as good as mine, I haven’t seen him on Akala in ages since Team Skull had disbanded so him showing up here of all places…”

 

“Might as well ask him,” you don’t call Ampharos back into the capsule and wave nonchalantly as you walk out of the large building, “Maybe he could be a useful assistant.” There was a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, one that signified that someone would be suffering soon.

 

The usually bustling area was oddly quiet, people were unwilling to be as boisterous and uncaring of their appearances because of a new addition to the scene. He wasn’t exactly hard to spot, hands shoved deep into his dark sweats as he slouched his way around towards the Thrifty Megamart. His shock of bleached white hair had grown out significantly, dark roots showing even more obviously than you last saw him, which didn’t really surprise you. You waste no time in catching up to him, Ampharos’ tail was swinging merrily as she hurries after you.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” your cheery voice startles the once subdued atmosphere as you clap Guzma’s slouching back with a bit too much enthusiasm.

 

It’s almost comical the way that he turns so quickly to stare at you as if you had somehow magically appeared by his side, he then turns back around with the sole intent of ignoring you. You don’t take the hint and continue walking beside him even though his slow saunter had become more of a hurried stride.

 

You don’t let his lack of reception deter you as you too speed up the pace of your walking as you jab at him with a deceptively innocent smile, “Got tired of squatting in front of trailers?” Watching the way that his cheeks seemed to flush slightly in embarrassment only egged you on further even as he struggles to pull ahead of you. Unfortunately, you forgot that there was still a Pokémon now panting and struggling to keep up.

 

“Oh come on,” you smile widens, as your voice remains bright, “Are you giving me the cold shoulder now? I’m simply _dying_ to know why you would be all the way on Akala.”

 

He walks a bit faster. You continue your joyful but completely unwanted pursuit with even more glee to your step if that was possible. Ampharos was beginning to grow a little tired of the chase and so discreetly sent a small shockwave into Guzma only to see him keel over and twitch sporadically on the ground.

 

You turn around to see your yellow ‘lighthouse’ sheepishly look to the ground as you hold back a groan, your plan would have to have some recalibrating. When you squatted down and hauled him up so that he was leaning onto your shoulder, you noted he was surprisingly light. After carrying him over to the parking lot of the Thrifty Megamart, you casually throw him down on a patch of grass nearby.

 

He was already coming to when you were helping him towards the parking lot and as much as he detested being supported by someone younger and significantly smaller, lying down face-first on the street wasn’t on his to-do list. As you sat down beside him, you spritzed some healing spray around him to make the last of the electrical energy dissipated.

 

“Sorry about that,” you apologize with a definite lack of sincerity, “Ampharos was getting tired chasing after you, she has a bit of a temper.”

 

Still disoriented by the electric shock, Guzma’s mind was barely making sense of what was going on until your voice sounded again, “Wanna do me a favour?”

 

He was still pretty out of it, but hearing you say that allowed him to force out two words, “Hell no.”

 

You perched your chin on a propped-up knee as you watch him struggle to sit up with an expression that spoke of vindictive pleasure, “Why ever not? Could you possibly have something better to do?”

 

Managing to finally seat himself, he glares at you with what you think is a pathetic attempt at anger, “What’s it to you anyway, don’t you got some better things to busy yourself with ‘mighty’ Champion?”

 

“ _Retired_ kid, _retired_ ,” you heave a dramatic sigh as if you were about to launch into a long-winded tale of your journey to said retirement but ended up being cut off by an irate Guzma.

 

“Who’re ya callin’ kid? I’ll eat my shoe if you’re older than me,” the not so white-haired male says, crossing his arms and studying the way that you glowed with youth. Your skin seemed to glisten with natural dewiness and your slim body was outfitted with pseudo workout clothes. Although, to be honest, if he really thought about it, the way you dealt with crises such as the Aether Foundation and the Ultra Beasts spoke of a maturity that surpassed your appearance.

 

Your eyes glanced at him before looking away and reaching for Ampharos who lumbered closer for some doting scratches, your voice was devoid of emotion, “Well thankfully you won’t be eating your shoe, but I don’t like the implication that you seem to think I’m way younger than I actually am.”

 

His curiosity was peaked, mind whirring slightly trying to figure out how old you actually were because he had once thought you were like fifteen or sixteen. Apparently not by the way you seemed to scoff at the idea of being that much younger than his twenty-four years. “So are ya going to tell me?”

 

“Tell you what?” You raised an eyebrow slightly, face completely blank mirroring your tone, “How is my age any of your business?”

 

Guzma struggled between just walking away or trying to wheedle the information out of you, which he knew that was only going to put him through more suffering. But alas, curiosity got the better of him as he opened his mouth to ask again, “How old are ya?”

 

Hearing the question, your earlier expressionlessness was replaced with a sly smile, “You shouldn’t ask me a question like that, everyone will get the wrong idea. After all, if I really look as young as you think I am, people will think you’re propositioning a minor.”

 

“What—! Aw, sh—what is _wrong_ with you?” As much as he didn’t want it to happen, a dark red could be seen on his tanned complexion, “I’m gone, say no more.”

 

Watching him be in such a mortified hurry had to be one of the most amusing things that you had seen since you had arrived in Alola so you did nothing to stop his ‘escape’. Your eyes flicked to the way that he continued heading towards the Thrifty Megamart, “I’ll tell you if you do me a favour.”

 

You see him hesitate on the next step, but it is only for a moment before he continues walking further and further. Once again, you leisurely watch him get a few steps closer and closer to the ramshackle building that has weathered through the difficult Alolan weather. You even close your eyes and take a moment to enjoy the shine of the warm sun as you wait for Guzma to disappear into the store. When he does, you slowly stand before calling Ampharos reluctantly into her Pokéball while you watch as Espeon pops out from where he had been hiding for most of the time. Seeing the lack of worry in his gaze, you confidently stride into the shop.

 

It doesn’t exactly take very long for you to find the ‘salt and pepper’ male who, to no one’s surprise, was looking around in the hair dye section. His perusal of the measly offerings was mildly endearing so you watched him stress out a bit longer. Seeing the way that he was reaching into his hair to likely pull at it, you step in and clap him solidly on his back, “I see you’re running low on hair dye.”

 

He tries his very best to ignore you, but it seems that he is unable for the first time in years to disregard someone completely. Perhaps it was because you were _much_ too loud, but none the less he glances down at your cheeky grin with an answering grimace, “If it ain’t obvious enough, I ain’t naturally white haired.”

 

You deliberate silently for a moment and decide to go easy on him, you’ve been poking at him this entire time. You might as well give him a bone, “If you do me a favour, I’ll get you a couple of boxes of hair bleach and not from this place. Who knows if this stuff is legit? From your salon of choice.”

 

This offer was a bit too sweet; you could tell by the way that he frowned deeply weighing both the pros and cons of working with you on a mysterious task. Luckily for him, he had never been so easily swayed so he decided that even precious hair dye would be nothing for whatever torture you could put him though.

 

Just as he was about to shake his head, you cut in, “I’ll also answer your question that you seemed quite invested in,” Finally he looks at you, dark eyes flashing with a bit more life than before and you allow a small but genuine smile to appear on your lips.

 

“Alright,” the agreement is quite hesitant, and you have no doubt that even then he was regretting it, but being the prideful individual he was, he wouldn’t take it back. This was what you were banking on as you begin striding confidently out of the store. The twin tips of Espeon’s tail flicks slightly in a gesture of amusement as he brings up the rear, ensuring that Guzma is indeed following.

 

When you step out of the store, you remain there for him to slowly mosey his way to where you were waiting with a foreign expression of excitement on your face. Your ‘dex is there hovering about as you swipe around looking for something before basically shoving it into Guzma’s unsuspecting face. Both he and Rotom let out a noise of surprise as you begin speaking in explanation.

 

“Salandits,” your demand that he look at the small black lizard that was being displayed on the screen, “Not so difficult to find, really. But it gets much trickier when you want Salazzle since running into one is like a one in twenty-five chance, and even worse when you’re like me.”

 

He raises his eyebrow slightly at your words, “Whaddya mean by ‘like you’? You bad at catching Pokémon or somethin’?” He knows that this isn’t the problem as you roll your eyes at him before responding sarcastically.

 

“I’m kind of a chick magnet, if you know what I mean,” you toss your head to the side, exuding haughtiness as you continue to speak, “Those silly Fletchlings flock to me as if I’m literally a fresh loaf of bread. It’s ridiculous.”

 

Guzma shrugs offhandedly, “What’s this gotta do with me, anyway? Besides, I wouldn’t be complaining about bein’ a chick magnet; if I remember right you’ve got quite a bird of your own.”

 

As if hearing that he had been summoned, your Talonflame bursts unbidden from his capsule, red and golden feathers gleaming happily in the sunlight. He caws loudly before landing himself on your head, careful with his talons so as not to hurt you. He takes one glance at your companion and immediately dismisses his presence and begins preening nonchalantly.

 

When he mutters, “Stupid bird,” underneath his breath, said bird turns to him with a beady black eye as if daring him to say another word. You ignore the exchange and try to get to the topic at hand.

 

“Yeah, can you believe that I managed to encounter a _shiny_ Fletchling before getting a female Salandit,” your voice seems to hold substantial mirth as you reach up to pet your pretty bird. “If you ask me, that seems really skewed.”

 

Catching on to what you were hinting at, Guzma tugs at his clothing that consisted of a matching set of black sweats, “Why’d you ask me? Can’t you ask anyone else to help you with this thing? Hell, Plumeria would be a way better choice than me, at least _she’s_ got a Salazzle.”

 

“Because I feel like it,” you effectively ignore his queries as you encourage your little firebird to begin heading to his home, “You ask so many questions. Talk later. Do now.” And without a second word, you begin walking onto Route 7. Guzma stands there like an idiot, wondering again if it would be worth following you for what could be one of the strangest days in his life.

 

. . .

 

The humid air is only amplified by the heat and you resist the urge to fly to the nearest building and take a break. It seemed that your tolerance for the god-awful temperature had been significantly reduced in your time as Champion. But you swallowed your own self-pitying and looked at Guzma who was trailing awkwardly a few steps behind you.

 

Espeon had disappeared somewhere ahead, you don’t tell him to come back feeling that he would be fine out there. Talonflame was still happily soaring overhead basking in the increasing heat from the volcano you were approaching. You were glad that you wore clothes ready for the occasion because the last thing you wanted was not being able to sweat properly. You glanced over at Guzma with a little frown, studying his outfit with a critical eye.

 

“How do you walk around Alola like that,” there is genuine curiosity in your voice as you walk closer to him and looking at his very warm-looking sweats and a plain dark hoodie. “Don’t you sweat yourself to death?”

 

Devoid of his usual accessories, you realize that he’s really quite ‘normal’ looking and he shrugs, “Never been an issue, besides you learn to deal with it when you don’t have any choice.” He realizes a bit too late that he had revealed much more than he _ever_ intended and to his relief, you don’t say anything, as if you hadn’t been able to draw anything from his statement.

 

But from the way your eyes dimmed slightly with some mysterious emotion, it was evident that you knew a little too well what he might be referring to. Yet, you don’t want to speak, knowing that if you did, Guzma’s fragile and feigned confidence would shatter. Thus, there is a bit of awkward silence before you break it.

 

“I mean, you used to spend most of your time in Po Town right,” you forced a smile onto your lips, in hopes of changing the topic, “It rains so much there, so sweaters are a must. I always wondered how all of you managed to stay cold-free wearing shorts and tanks.”

 

“It’s not like we stand ‘round in the rain all day,” there’s a lightness to his voice that connects with the softer expression in his eyes as he reminisces about the past, “At most we rotate around, and we have the rest of Alola to dry off.”

 

You nod in agreement before laying down another hard question, “Have you been recently?” And when you see him about to play dumb, you continue, “Po Town, I mean. Last I checked there were still some kids hanging around there, waiting.”

 

There is an obvious grimace on his unconventionally handsome face, jaw hardening in annoyance that masked a deep worry. “Haven’t been. Shouldn’t be, Team Skull doesn’t exist no more, tell’em kids that there’s no point in staying.”

 

“Like they listen to me,” your voice, unlike its usual brashness had a soft but thoughtful quality to it, “Why should they, after all, I’m the one who foiled their plans. The only one they will answer to is you, and maybe Plumeria if she really decides to go at it.”

 

“Stupid brats, don’t they know that there ain’t no point in fightin’ what was a lost fight,” Guzma’s tone is surprisingly equal parts filled with anger and bitterness, “And seeing where fightin’ got us, got _me_ , last time. There’s no point.”

 

“Hm,” you decide not to push him past where he was comfortable, knowing that any wounds were still fresh and likely constantly on his mind. “Well, enough of that. We’re here, the Wela Volcano Park.”

 

The heat that emanated from even outside the area already caused a thin sheen of perspiration to appear on your brow. Your Talonflame seemed quite constant on the other hand, squawking loudly as if calling for his past friends, you don’t say anything except gesturing for him to go find them. He nuzzles you gently before launching himself back into the air and disappearing into the sky. You turn to see that Guzma was reaching for a Pokéball that was most likely his Golisopod, and whistle lightly to call for Espeon. The light purple Pokémon appears quietly behind you, large eyes flicking between the two of you with a playful light in them.

 

Guzma hesitates, as if wondering if you two were about to duke it out just randomly here of all places. Seeing that he still hadn’t let his partner loose, you chuckle, “Espeon knows how to play nice, you might as well let them all out to have some fun while we try to get that Salandit.”

 

Hearing your explanation, he doesn’t hesitate and immediately releases all of his Pokémon into the open, all of them seemed a little startled at being called out at once. But this doesn’t deter their excitement at seeing their trainer, happily crowding around him with chirps and gurgles. Golisopod, was of course, over the moon and nudging the others playfully away to nuzzle at the ex-gang leader enthusiastically.

 

Seeing such wholesomeness from someone who tried so hard to seem tough made you laugh; it was quite amusing to see how doting his partners were and relieving to know how well he must treat them. But the sound startles the excited bug Pokémon who all turn around to look at you with trepidation, fear, or in Golisopod’s case, anger. It wasn’t that unexpected, but seeing you, who had beat his partner so many times, put him on aggressive mode immediately. Ignoring Guzma’s demands to stay away from you, he nonetheless continues to stalk towards you with evidently hostile movements. But before he could get anywhere close to you, or even Espeon for that matter, a Pokéball on your belt immediately bursts into light to reveal a massive rotund figure blocking the large bug’s way.

 

“Oh, this is bad,” your usual confidence shatters when you realize who had come out to ‘play’, “Snorlax, sweetie, do you mind returning?” But like Golisopod, he seems content to ignore your pleas and more interested in keeping the large bug away from you. But seeing the giant Pokémon only incensed Golisopod who was even more on edge and looking for a fight.

 

“Jesus Christ! Why the hell didja bring your overgrown pillow with you?” Guzma himself was quite worried about a fight breaking loose, which was of course imminent if both Snorlax and Golisopod were in each other’s presence.

 

“Will you stop insulting my partners? It’s not like you’re helping things by bringing your own overgrown insect,” you shoot him a glare as you try to pull Snorlax away from swiping a heavy paw across Golisopod’s face.

 

The bug in question does not react well to your comment and takes another step forward and closer to an about-to-explode Snorlax which just makes everything worse. “Come back,” Guzma calls, almost half-heartedly like he had given up on making the situation better. Unfortunately, his partner takes his tone as him being bullied by you, with pushes him over the edge and Golisopod lunges at you.

 

Well, technically he did so at Snorlax who was fully prepared to brawl when Espeon leaps high into the air and using Psychic, knocks the two of their heads together harshly with a bang. The two large Pokémon sway lightly on their feet before crashing to the ground with a thump while Espeon gracefully lands in front of you.

 

“Nice one,” you reach over and rub his head affectionately and giving him some patterned beans, not particularly concerned with the condition of the still dazed Pokémon, “What would I do without you?”

 

Espeon only purrs in response, happily munching on his beans with relish while waiting for you to release most of his friends from their capsules. You don’t hesitate any longer, none of your partners were as bad as Snorlax, and if he was out, your team could keep him (somewhat) in check. Ampharos appears once more along with a less-than-enthusiastic Primarina who looks at you with betrayal in his eyes as soon as he breathes in the hot air. But this turns into calm understanding when he sees not only Guzma and his team, but the two fallen giants close by.

 

“Yeah, I’m going to leave that up to you,” you gently pat his head and pass him a rainbow bean, “You don’t have to sing or anything, just make sure that they don’t kill each other.” Your ‘assistant’ for the day was having a similar conversation with his own team, trying to encourage them to play nice, which is made better by Espeon who offers a gesture of friendship. A few patterned beans that he hadn’t eaten were placed onto the ground in invitation to the other team and Masquerain takes the lead, hesitantly nibbling at one and seeing there is nothing wrong, the rest join in.

 

“I guess that’s one way to break the ice,” Guzma still seems a little jittery while he makes his way to a now awakening Golisopod, “Your Espeon sure is cruel, that Psychic held nothing back.”

 

You level him a dry smile, “I prefer practical, and unwilling for things to get violent, he’s in fact very kind. I don’t know about your end, but Snorlax was a little huffy about not getting to thrash opponents these past few days.” You too crouch down to check your Pokémon’s head, which seemed totally fine and gently pat him as he begins to sit up with laborious efforts.

 

The giant blue and beige creature whines as if a great injustice had been delivered, and you continue to coo at him, “Aw, don’t be so down! Look, everyone else is out playing together,” you gesture to the cautiously getting along group to your left. “I’m sure you and Golisopod can get along.”

 

At your second statement, Snorlax glances at the bug, who had already regained his footing, with a dismissive sniff before lumbering away to join Primarina who was blowing water bubbles for Ampharos, Vikavolt, and Scizor to pop. You glance over to where a few metres away, Guzma was still trying to convince his loyal protector to leave him to play with the rest of the Pokémon. It was clear by the chirps and buzzing that he was making in your direction that he didn’t trust you, which you had expected in all honesty.

 

Perhaps it was just a coincidence or fate at play, but the last member of your ‘main’ team was taking a break at home and instead you brought with you the Pokémon you hoped would help with catching the elusive Salandit. Heracross bursts from her Pokéball, surprised that she was out so early after you had told her that it would take a while for her task to come.

 

“This is Heracross,” you make this introduction to both a curious Guzma and a slightly less wary Golisopod, “She’ll be with Guzma and me, if you have any worries, I’m sure she’ll be quick to dispel them.”

 

When she flies over, the large white and purple Pokémon seems much more friendly in comparison to your usual team. You consider the possibilities and realise it’s likely because they’ve never had to battle. There were some initial greetings and then a series of chirps and clicks before Golisopod finally nudges his trainer in goodbye and making his way to where Espeon was sparring playfully with Pinsir. Heracross waits for you to make your way to where she was hovering beside Guzma, when you get there you watch both of your Pokémon fooling around together.

 

“I thought it was going to take much more for them to feel comfortable around each other,” you study the way that even Snorlax had relaxed and letting Masquerain flit about him while he napped. “Your Pokémon haven’t had many chances to play recently.”

 

Shifting his weight from leg to leg, he grumbles underneath his breath, “Not my fault no one’s willing to battle, everyone treats me like some sort of loose cannon or disease. So ‘stead of going out and making a fool of myself, I’d rather stay where I am.”

 

“Everyone?” Your lips lifted into a sly smile, “You’d be surprised by the people who are willing to have a tussle or two with you; not all of Alola is afraid of you. There are several kids I know who wouldn’t bat an eye if they saw you, in fact, they would be there with Pokémon raring to go.”

 

He glances at you, expression lightening slightly, “There’s some truth in that, but it don’t change the fact I ain’t welcome anywhere in Alola besides Po Town. Even there, I doubt I’ll still be greeted with open arms.”

 

“I disagree,” you state, eyes still on all your Pokémon, a couple who were now playing some rendition of tag, “But it’s not my job to help you with your existential crisis, I have a crisis of my own that you were supposed to help me with.” Shouldering your bag, you begin hiking further into the park while Heracross followed you in the air.

 

Guzma fought the urge to chuck a rock at your figure, you were hands down one of the most annoying people he’s ever met with an ability to say some pretty heartless things. But even then, he followed your figure that marched confidently though the heat.

 

. . .

 

An unintelligible scream startles the small flock of Fletchlings that had been following you for the past forty-five minutes as you tried to hunt for your female Salandit with no success. Bored at your lack of action, which consisted solely of running away from small birds, both Heracross and Guzma had started a game of catch with a wild Magby.

 

Turning to see your slightly flushed face of frustration, he holds back a chuckle at the way you were staring balefully at the birds that returned to your side only a few moments after. While you had always been playful and light-hearted, he had yet to see you throw such a tantrum; it was clear that you weren’t the most patient human being. At least when it came to trying to catch Pokémon.

 

Half an hour later after seeing you run away from the very first male Salandit you came across, Guzma just about had it. “Did you seriously just do that?”

 

“Do what?” You huff, annoyed at his lack of input or effort to help in your Salandit search, “Finally decided to give me a hand?” The heat was really starting to get to you, there was sweat trailing down the side of your face and your clothes clung even more tightly to your body.

 

Seeing you struggle so much did make him much less self-conscious about the whole thing, so he made his way to where you were pacing furiously with an easy grin on his face. You were puffing your cheeks out in frustration, looking very young indeed. But as his eyes trailed down, your slim waist gave way to curved hips and toned legs that implied that you weren’t just saying that you weren’t all that young. However, when his gaze passed your chest, seeing nothing more than a flat board he became confused once more.

 

“So are you going to help me or keep staring at my chest?” You asked, voice hinting at great amusement as you watched him jerk his eyes back to your dangerously smiling ones.

 

Covering up his flustered reaction, he jibes, “You act like there’s something to stare at in the first place. I was just wondering if you even know how to capturing Pokémon works, because you just let go of the chance to get your Salazzle.”

 

Ignoring his insult for favour of the more important insight that he had, you ask, “What do you mean? It was a male Salandit, how would that help me with getting a female?” Heracross finally decides to join you, hovering beside where you were now standing.

 

There is a sliver of his previous cockiness as he crosses his arms over his chest, a wry smile on his lips as he explains, “Pokémon who are low on health will call for help, don’t know if you knew that.”

 

“Duh,” you respond, “Of course I know that, it’s a little annoying. This never happened back in Kanto.”

 

“I guess that explains it,” he is standing pretty close to you as he studies the gently waving golden grasses of Wela volcano. You notice that his face looks relaxed, casting a different light to his usually so vicious-looking face.

 

You nudge him with an elbow, “Explains what?” You too feel pretty comfortable, unlike previous interactions with him where there was the presence of others, this seemed more organic. Guzma noticed how unrestrained your behaviour was, even though you had always been boisterous, this was a whole new level.

 

He chuckled, slightly distracted by his thoughts, “When Pokémon call for help, they will only call certain allies. In your case, Salandit will only call other Salandit for help or in the very rare case, a Salazzle. Ya catchin’ ma drift?”

 

Your eyes flash with quick understanding before transforming to annoyance, “If you knew this, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” There was a frown on your face as you continued, “You should have said something when that Salandit showed up earlier.”

 

“Hey, don’t go blamin’ me,” he smirks, a strange sense of satisfaction filling him, “Not my fault the great and powerful Champion didn’t know how wild Pokémon work in Alola.” Watching you get back to stealthily creeping around, he realizes how bored he had felt the past few weeks after the disbandment of Team Skull. It also filled him with a sense of loneliness and emptiness that were his only companions before he created his little gang and met Plumeria, making him more miserable than he had been even in the Ultra Wormhole.

 

“Stop dozing off, at least make some conversation so I don’t have to think about this ridiculous heat,” you say as you wipe some sweat off your brow, having moved on to a new patch of yellow grass for better luck. “What’re your plans, you can’t possibly be planning to hang around some trailers for the rest of your life.”

 

“What’s wrong with doing that?” Guzma shot back, the growing feeling of embarrassment making him snap at you, “You act like you have so many better things to do, retired-champ.”

 

You turn back to face him, a gleam in your eyes as you respond, “Yes, because loitering around is your life’s greatest aspiration, somehow I doubt that’s what you envisioned as a kid.” Your search was put on pause as you wade out of the patch of grass to where he was still standing.

 

“What’s it to you? What I do is my business, get off ya high horse,” his eyes were narrowed as a precursor to anger, his once relaxed jaw was tensed. “You act like it’s so easy for me to just move on with my life, restart. But guess what doll? It don’t work that way, life ain’t that easy! ‘Course someone like ya probably had their life handed to them on a golden plate.”

 

There is a tiny smile on your face as you studied the way he radiated righteous anger, eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring and lips pressed together in a scowl. But this was at odds with the way he was standing, shoulders curling forward in a hunch that betrayed fear and uncertainty. You let out a breath slowly as you walk up to him so that you were only a few steps away and wait for him to look at you.

 

Your voice is calm, in complete contrast to your usual energy, “I know it’s not easy, and I’m not telling you to do anything you don’t want to do.” A cheeky smile breaks your earlier cool, “Besides being here, of course. I’m also not saying that you are any less because you want to squat around a trailer, but the person that I battled so many times doesn’t seem like the type to be content doing that.”

 

Your words strike a chord within him, and his earlier anger gives away to something that he had been hiding for so long, but it manages to slip through. Fear. It creeps up on him until that’s the only thing he can feel, making him think back to things he had rather remained forever forgotten. He _doesn’t_ want to just stand around all day, but what else can he do?

 

Seeing that no answer was forthcoming and Guzma clearly unwilling to continue their conversation, you decide to leave it at that. No one would benefit from being lectured at, and it wasn’t really your place to tell him what he should be doing with his life, so you instead bring out some fried rice and water.

 

“Let’s eat lunch,” finding a boulder that blocked some of the sunlight, you plop yourself down and offer him a portion of your food, “No use in searching on an empty stomach.” You waited expectantly to sit beside you, which he does, albeit stiffly.

 

He was preoccupied as he munched on the food that you had brought, mind turning over your conversations and realizing that you had always pulled back when it got too personal. It was strange, he had expected you be one of the first people to be uncaring of barriers but you seemed terribly respectful of some of his. A strange sense of appreciation settled in his chest when he considered this point; everyone else who had spoken to him thus far, Plumeria included, had all pushed him to do something besides loafing around. Telling him that he was this and that, that he should be doing this or that, and asking why he was doing this or that.

 

In comparison, you were a breath of fresh air, even if you liked to amuse yourself at his expense. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he returned to the food and began scarfing down everything you had laid down with a voracity that surprised you. An inquiry was on the tip of your tongue when you saw that he was eating as if a man starved, but you opted to internalize it. Instead, you waited until he was done before packing up any trash and brushing off the dust on your pants and giving a few plain beans to your waiting Heracross who had long finished her meal.

 

“I am ready, those lizards better be the same because I am not leaving until I get that female Salandit,” your excitement was written plainly on your face as you went back to diving into the grass. This time, Guzma joined you in the wading and watched as you encountered five Fletchlings in a row with no signs of stopping.

 

“You really are a chick magnet,” his voice hinted at deep amusement of your suffering, “Do you have this problem with any other Pokémon? Because it would really suck to be you, you’ll never be able to complete your Pokédex.”

 

You make a face at him, annoyed at being reminded of your kryptonite, “Will you shut up, I’m trying to channel my Salandit energy okay?” And it is at this exact moment that a fire lizard appears directly in front of you, hissing in annoyance at your disturbance.

 

The two of you stare at each other with identical expressions of incredulous surprise as you immediately tell Heracross to leap into action, “Use False Swipe.” The expected results and the little purple creature is looking very sorry because your bug happened to be dreadfully over-leveled for such a tiny thing.

 

And as expected, the limping lizard calls for help to reveal yet another male Salandit and you realize that you best be ready for a long ride, all while Guzma was digging through your bag. When you scare off the newcomer, you wait for the lizard to call for help once more only to see that he simply lays there without any intention of doing so.

 

“Wait, why isn’t he calling for help? He literally has like one hit point left,” you stare at the Salandit who was now laying down, wondering what you were supposed to do. You hear Guzma call your name and toss you an unfamiliar blue orb.

 

“Use that,” he directs, an easy confidence to his words, “It’ll make the Pokémon nervous and encourage them to call more allies. Which I have the sneaking suspicion you’ll be needing.”

 

The smile you beam at him dazes him for a bit, making him feel a little strange as he returns to where you were waging war with what had already been over six male Salandits. In theory a female one should be showing up soon, but your terrible luck may prove to prevail against the odds. However, almost as if perfectly timed, the next lizard called arrived at the same moment that he travelled back to where you were ‘battling’.

 

“Holy f—” But before he could finish his exclamation, you had let out profanity of your own as you tell Heracross to quickly let the exhausted Salandit run away. He was struck by it, even days after he couldn’t really come up with a word to describe exactly what _it_ was, but it was a mixture of the utter elation, satisfaction, and _pride_ that you glowed with in that moment.

 

It didn’t take you long to capture the Pokémon that so eluded you for the better part of the day, in fact it was close to sunset by now, and when you do, the Pokéball rests in the palm of your hands like a treasure. Guzma wasn’t sure how it went down, but it had ended with your arms wrapped around him in an excited hug.

 

“Thanks!” You were smiling so hard that even he couldn’t help but to lift his lips in a small grin, “I should hire you as an assistant more.” You clap him on the back and without another word, the two of you began your exhausted walk back to where the rest of your teams were still hanging out. There was an obvious ease to the way that you walked together, a comfortable silence that came from genuine satisfaction of both of you. Guzma found himself being deeply influenced by your happiness, and it was nice feeling useful again instead of long-stretching boredom.

 

In comparison to the way that you had walked with him to the site you caught your new Salandit, the return journey was infinitely more comfortable. But when you and Guzma stumble upon the scene of your Pokémon, you are confronted with destroyed boulders and cracked earth as well as napping partners.

 

In particular are Golisopod and Snorlax who seemed to be surrounded in the most destruction, but the white insect was laying comfortably on the ‘overgrown pillow’ who seemed not to mind. The both of you don’t bother trying to figure out exactly what had occurred and opted instead to wake up all the Pokémon and returning the exhausted partners into their respective Pokéballs.

 

“Well, that was an eventful day,” you say, hands resting on your hips as the now setting sun illuminated your face with reddish orange, “Wanna go have dinner? I’m starved after a day like that.”

 

Trying to remain nonchalant, he shrugs before replying, “Only if you’re paying.” But you are undeterred and agree without batting an eye and the two of you begin the hike back to Royal Avenue. When you finally arrive at the gates of Wela Volcano Park, you breathe out an obvious sigh of relief from the heat before whistling lightly to call for your absent partner.

 

It doesn’t take long for Talonflame to arrive, nuzzling your cheek lightly with affection eagerly as if asking why you hadn’t called for him earlier. You gently rub the crown of his head as he coos with pleasure and plops himself on your shoulder, seeming to want to remain outside.

 

“Well, that should be everyone,” you hike your bag a little higher up on your shoulder, “Let’s head back, we should still have time before the Malasada shop at Royal Avenue closes up for the night. Hope you’re up for that.” You glance at Guzma who didn’t say anything in response.

 

When he remains silent for a good portion of the walk on Route 7, you finally can’t resist and ask, “What’s got you so quiet? Thinking about your crisis?” This finally pulls out a reaction, although not exactly the one that you were expecting.

 

He side eyes you, dark pupils glinting in the evening sunlight, “Why should I tell a brat like you, you wouldn’t even understand.” And seeing the way you puff with anger brings him more happiness than it should. Perhaps it was one of the few things in recent times that made him feel _normal_ again, part of something like a group or a friendship.

 

“Oh right!” There’s an obvious edge to your tone as you continue, “I was supposed to tell you how old I was, why don’t you guess first. And be honest, don’t hold anything back, I can take it.”

 

“Fifteen-ish, maybe sixteen?” Guzma answers, not particularly concerned with his guesses as it was clear you were going to tell him anyway. “You don’t look all that old, just sayin’.”

 

“Huh,” you reconsider a few interactions that you’ve had during the Island Trials, wondering if people too thought you were a young adolescent, “Try twenty-two.” You are looking right at him as you drop the bomb.

 

He stops walking and his head swings around so he can stare at you with an expression of disbelief on his face, “No way. There is no way you’re in your twenties, it’s impossible.”

 

“What do you mean by impossible? It’s very possible, just because I have a younger looking face, doesn’t mean I can’t be older,” you grumble, vexed by the thought of others thinking you were a fifteen-year-old. It didn’t sit right. No wonder other Trail goers never questioned your presence all that much, if everyone thought you were a teenager it wasn’t really all that strange.

 

“Younger face? More like baby-face,” he was shaking his head, still unwilling to trust your statement, “You’re really twenty-two. Seriously. Why th’ hell were ya doin’ the Island Challenges then?”

 

You roll your eyes, clearly annoyed by his earlier statement, “Why can’t I? It’s not like I had anything else to do; it gave me a chance to explore Alola and have some fun along the way. Although I must admit, my stint at the Pokémon School was a little embarrassing. No wonder Kukui was struggling not to laugh at me the entire time.” The lamp posts that covered Royal Avenue came into view, and it didn’t take much longer for the two of you to reach the Malasada shop.

 

The workers seem a little baffled by your presence with the ex-leader of Team Skull, but they don’t seem all that worried, likely comforted by the fact that you were with him. The waitresses are friendly, if not a little skittish, as they take Guzma’s order but it passes easily and soon the food is here. Talonflame seems quite happy with your choice of malasada and helps himself to a good portion as your ‘dinner date’ wolfs down his with no sign of stopping.

 

As the meal comes to a close, Guzma seems a little awkward when you exit the restaurant like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. It doesn’t take much guessing to realize, “You need a ride home?”

 

“…Yeah,” he reluctantly agrees, looking surprisingly bashful at the thought of asking for a favour, “The ferry to Ula’ula don’t run this late, ya mind me hitchin’ a ride home?”

 

You make a face, considering the logistics of the entire thing, “Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure if we would fit on one Charizard, and Ula’ula is in the opposite direction of where I live. So that’ll be a hassle.” You try to think of something else that would work and come up with something that Guzma never would have expected.

 

“Why don’t you crash at my place for the night? I’ve got the space for it and it’s not like anyone is expecting you,” you nod, and continue all while ignoring the strange expression that appeared on his face, “Besides, we’ll have to go get your hair dye tomorrow anyway, so it’ll save us the planning.”

 

“Wait, you’re serious?” Guzma’s tone was coloured with obvious surprise, “You trust me enough to believe I won’t just steal a bunch of your valuables and run? Wow, you must like me more than you let on.”

 

You look at him, an unamused expression on your face, “All your Pokémon are exhausted and so are you. There’s literally nothing to steal at my place, and if you so much as breathe the wrong way, the housekeeper will be more than willing to ensure you don’t breathe again.” The happy smile that you give him when you threaten him with death was disconcerting, to say the least, but he supposes that you were just exaggerating.

 

Except you weren’t, and he sorely regretted forgetting about the fact that there was a Kommo-o that was clearly absent from today’s excursion who wasn’t all that friendly when she saw Guzma enter the house.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tentative new project. Haven't really seen a particularily energetic/playful person paired with Guzma so I wanted to give it a twirl. See how it goes, I do apologize if my characterization isn't that great, it's been a while since I wrote this kinda thing~


	2. Hair dye and Hissy Fits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzma gets the hair dye that he doesn't have the funds for, and you take advantage of the weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos~! Without further ado, the next segment.

_In Which the Retired Champ Helps Pick Out Hair Dye (?)_

 

The trip back to your place wasn’t particularly eventful, you managed to get on the last ferry back to Melemele, saving you from the awkwardness of trying to squeeze into a one rider saddle on a Charizard. For the most part, the trip was silent both of you quite tuckered out from all the action. The sun had officially dipped below the horizon when you reach the dock, and the moon was beginning to appear in the sky.

 

“I live on Route 1, near Kukui’s lab,” you begin to lead him towards your home while calling out Ampharos, “There’s a bit of a hike to get there, but I don’t feel like paging a Tauros or anything, so we’ll hoof it ourselves.”

 

The bright yellow Pokémon was looking a little droopy from being woken up from her nap, but seeing you were back on Melemele she perked up a little and began walking down Route 1. You wait for Guzma to fall into step with you before following the glowing tail of your Pokémon that bobbed happily in front of you.

 

“I’m a little curious, where have you been staying these past few weeks?” You nudge him with your elbow, uncaring of the annoyed glance that he shot you, “At the Pokémon Centre? There aren’t that many places to live around Haina Desert.”

 

At first, he wants to tell you off, it wasn’t any of your business anyways. But he finds himself not really that adverse to telling you, at least he knew he would be safe form disgust or pity. “You really think the Centre would let me stay there, what with a buncha kids hanging around with their Pokémon? Nah, I sleep where I can, it’s not like it gets cold in Alola, you make do.”

 

Your lips were downturned, not with pity or disgust, but with confusion, “What? Why aren’t you staying with Plumeria, she has her trailer as I’m sure you know considering your frequent loitering. I doubt she’d kick you out on her doorstep.”

 

“Yeah, we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.” Guzma avoids your curious stare while reaching a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing in a nervous gesture, “We got in a bit of an argument.”

 

“About what?” Your inquiry was devoid of anything else but some faint concern, “It wasn’t about Team Skull was it?”

 

While he normally wouldn’t have been so willing to talk about his troubles, being someone who liked to use anger to deal with most of his problems, his fight with Plumeria has had no outlet. Back in Po Town if he had ever argued with anyone, if it wasn’t with Plumeria, she would be there while he worked it out. If it was with her, there would be more than enough willing Team members who would keep him company.

 

But he wasn’t in Po Town, Team Skull was disbanded, and the one person that he had thought would have supported him through anything wouldn’t talk to him. So really, he didn’t have much of a choice, and the thought of having to stuff his frustration down until the end of time held little appeal. “It wasn’t really about Team Skull; it was about me. And her.”

 

“Oh my God.” You couldn’t help it, the way he worded it was so ambiguous that your mind immediately went to one conclusion, “You guys were a thing? I mean, it’s not that hard to believe, but I never really saw it you know. Dang, then the disbandment would’ve put a strain on your relationship.”

 

Whatever sadness or frustration he was feeling was wiped away by your outlandish guesses, “Sometimes, just sometimes, you manage to be unable to shut up even when _I_ can.” He watches as you discreetly nod and proceed to wait for him to continue.

 

“First of all, we aren’t a thing. We tried to be a thing, but then it got weird because she felt more like a sister than anything,” he shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring the eyebrow waggling you were doing. “Can you stop? Are you five?” But there is a part of him that feels relieved that you are keeping the conversation on the light-hearted side of things.

 

“Nope, twenty-two like I said before,” there’s a teasing lilt to your voice that dies off to be replaced by seriousness, “Okay, you can go now.”

 

“After we disbanded, it was tense for a bit. We didn’t have any more incoming funds, there wasn’t much for us to do, and some of the kids were disappointed by the things that Aether did to Alola.” Guzma’s gray eyes looked closer to black in the dim lighting, with his eyebrows furrowed deeply, “I mean, we did some stupid things. Illegal things, sure. But none of us ever wanted to put anyone in real danger.”

 

“That’s true,” your smile was a little wistful as you recalled the silly kids with their crazy coloured hair and even crazier attitudes, “You guys were a nuisance, but no one cared enough about the damage you caused to feel actually threatened by you.”

 

“Yeah, that’s Team Skull for ya. But after Aether, a lot of us realized that we had, even though not on purpose, put people’s lives in danger. And that was something that they couldn’t forgive themselves for,” his voice trailed off slightly, making you wonder if he was also talking about himself. “Plumeria felt the same, and she decided that she wanted to apply to some salons around Alola since she’s always been into that kinda thing.”

 

“True, her hair is always looking very nice,” you nod, recalling her interesting hairstyle and wondering how in the world she was able to do it.

 

At your comment Guzma chuckles a little, “To be fair, you’d have to be some kind of talent to be able to do everyone’s hair in Team Skull, so I wasn’t particularly surprised. Only problem was that she was ex-Team Skull, no one wanted her and told her to her face that she was not welcome to apply again. So I got real pissed, it wasn’t as if she didn’t regret Team Skull did, or else we’d still be livin’ it up in Po Town. So I decided to get involved, I told those stupid hairdressers that they could shove their pretentiousness where I couldn’t see it.”

 

“Huh,” There wasn’t much to say here. The story wasn’t hard to guess from that point on.

 

“Well, she didn’t take it all that well that I had stuck my ‘fat, arrogant nose’ into her business,” Guzma rubbed said nose and continued, “There were some things said that should’ve not been said, and now here I am. Gettin’ a free therapy session from the retired champion."

 

There was an awkward pause that came after his words, it seemed that something truly off in the conversation that you had with Plumeria recently. Seeing the subtle exhaustion that lined her eyes that flickered with worry when she spoke softened your heart and you found yourself unable to reject her request. You were thankful that the pause was cut short due to your arrival at your house.

 

Even though you didn’t come from money, you had been able to save up enough for the down payment for this seaside place. After your time as Champion, and all the money you had made throughout your journey, especially all those Big Nuggets you got that one time, you probably had enough to pay off your mortgage. The house was modest in size, with no garage to speak of and a minimal porch, but it was home.

 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” but before you could even step through the threshold of your own house, a large scaled body squeezed itself between you and Guzma. Even though your loyal dragon had joined your team quite late and hadn’t really had the chance to battle against Guzma, hearing the stories her fellow team members had regarding the white-haired gang leader was enough.

 

“Okay girl, easy.” You try to squeeze yourself past the large body, “He’s not here for a fight, he just needs a place to stay for the night.” At these words, she squeezes you into the house, along with Ampharos who ignores the situation in favour of plopping herself down on the woolen rug inside.

 

“She clearly does not want to let me in,” Guzma’s voice is a little shaky, unlike his usual confidence when handling Pokémon. His words are punctuated by a low growl from the dragon which just makes the situation so much better.

 

“Darling,” you soften your voice while you gently smooth your left hand down her scales, “He’s really not bad, he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay. Just let him in, if you’re worried, you can just keep an eye on him, okay?”

 

Kommo-o begrudgingly moves to the side to open up a path for him, all while her eyes traced his every move, clearly on full alert. You sigh, “Yeah, you can see why I said that you would probably be unable to steal anything.”

  

He laughs, although falls silent abruptly when your hostile dragon bares her fangs at him in a gesture that is the opposite of welcoming. You roll your eyes at her protective behaviour as you chide, “Now, now. You can hiss at him all you like when he does something wrong, there’s no need to expend so much energy when he’s just standing there.”

 

Guzma sends you a look that expounds on his lack of appreciation to your version of placating your partner but seeing the glare that Kommo-o is still sending him causes him to retract it. You can’t help but to smile at their silly interaction and telling him to take a seat on the couch, you move to the kitchen to pour two glasses of water.

 

When you exit the kitchen, you are greeted with a very strange scene, one that you wished you had taken a picture of. Your Ampharos had dragged its prone body over to where Guzma was sitting and had plopped her head lazily on his lap while he scratched behind her ears in slow motions. While this was a very nice, your dragon Pokémon was so baffled that she couldn’t stop pacing around the living room trying to understand why they were on such good terms.

 

“You’re pretty good at that,” you comment as you place the water on the coffee table. When Ampharos realizes that you had returned, she pulls herself off of Guzma’s lap and throws her head onto yours while wagging her tail lazily. “But clearly not as good as me.” You slide your fingers along the spots you know she wants you to scratch.

 

Kommo-o has finally calmed down and was watching the goings on with the same bewildered expression that she had been wearing for the last few minutes. Guzma scoffs, “Of course you’d know, she’s your partner,” a challenging glint appeared in his eyes as he says, “You probably have no idea what Golisopod likes, so don’t be so full of yourself.”

 

You raise your eyebrows, “Well, we’ll never know until we try, right? We’re going to give your ‘theory’ a whirl sometime.” Looking down to see that your lighthouse had fallen asleep on your lap, you finish up your drink before waking her up.

 

Climbing the stairs to your room you say, “I’m going to go take a shower, you can go check out your room while I see if I can find any clothes that might fit you.” You point to a closed door to his left, “That’s where you’ll be staying. Don’t sleep in your dirty clothes or dirty self unless you want to do the laundry tomorrow, I’ll let you know when I’m done so you can shower.”

 

After that, you disappear and he places his finished cup back on to the coffee table before making his way into the room that you had pointed out earlier. Stepping in, Guzma notices that it’s quite small with space enough for a bed, a closet and a tiny desk and nothing more. The entire place is quite light and airy, which is matched with the white and blue décor that added to the cottage-like feel the rest of the house had.

 

Scanning the walls, he noted that there were quite a few photos of you along with other people and Pokémon that clearly weren’t from Alola. The backgrounds for many of the photos were filled with expansive grasslands that were nowhere to be seen here; he concluded that this must be the region that you came from. There were some Pokémon he hadn’t ever seen before as well as pictures of scenery such as tall snowy mountains and lush forests.

 

There was a picture in particular that caught his eye, it wasn’t large or particular exciting but you were holding a little blue Pokémon that he had never seen before. Its body was round with bright green leaves that sprouted out of the top; it was cute. The Pokémon sat in your lap as you smiled into the camera, wide and uncaring about how you appeared. Truly happy.

 

It was an expression that he wasn’t all too familiar with, no one around him had ever been so carefree, least of all himself. Guzma could tell that this was when you were actually young; because you now carried yourself with a different air that differed greatly from the innocence in this photo. Although, he wondered if solely age could have caused such an evident change in demeanor, it didn’t seem like the picture had been taken too long ago.

 

“Go take your shower,” your voice came from the doorway, “I found some stuff that might fit you.” He turned around to see you holding out a pair of basketball shorts along with an XXL sweatshirt that seemed quite worn in.

 

“Sure, whose clothes will I be wearing?” There is a strange lightness to his voice, one that escapes your notice because of your tiredness, “I’ll have to go pay them a visit to thank them.”

 

You were clad in an overlarge t-shirt and sweats, clearly your pyjamas and yawned, “They’re mine, found them on sale some time ago and they were comfy. You won’t have to be paying any visits, just thank me.”

 

“Oh,” he feels as if some wind had been taken out of his sails, “Thanks, I guess.” You were evidently exhausted from the way you rubbed at your eyes and hid yet another yawn, it was almost a little cute.

 

You shrug, “Yeah, no problem. I’m going to bed, if you need anything, Kommo-o will help you. There’s some food in the kitchen if you get hungry and bathroom is the second door on the left. See you tomorrow.” With that, you depart and disappear into the small house.

 

He looks at the clothes he had taken subconsciously from you, the fabric soft in his hands and as he looks at it, he feels a quiet warmth in his chest. It felt so strange to be treated _normally_ , as if just a friend who was staying over instead of the homeless, jobless ‘delinquent’ he was. Guzma started his journey to the bathroom, wondering if it was too much to ask to be able to feel this way for a bit longer.

 

. . .

 

Morning dawns, the sky dark with the promise of rain, making your reconsider the possibilities of going out for fear of catching a cold. But when the rain is one of the only reprieves from the constantly hot temperature, you decide to brave the outside anyway. You have always been an early riser, enjoying the brisker air that could only be found in the few hours before the noon sun burns it all off. You decide to crack a few eggs for an omelette for breakfast, adding a few vegetables and a generous amount of cheese. The clanking of pots and pans, as well as the movements of multiple bodies, is what awakens Guzma, who was notorious for being the opposite of a morning person. Turning over on the glorious bed, he was determined to catch a few more moments of sleep but is prevented by the smell of food.

 

If there was one thing that could have called him out of the first bed he had slept in for over a month, it was the scent of homecooked breakfast. Running his fingers through his hair, he stumbles out of the small bedroom to see pretty much mayhem in your living room.

 

“Out, out, out,” you gesture to the back door that leads to a bit of yard that belonged to you, “I’ll feed you all as soon as I’m done with this, okay? I promise beans for everyone.” There is a lull in the movements before your Primarina takes the lead and heads into the backyard. Following the singing Pokémon is his Masquerain and Golisopod and following them is an entire horde that was composed of both his and your partners.

 

“I see the ruckus has woken you,” your eyes were focused on the pan that was sizzling quietly on the stovetop, “Which is good because about half of that ruckus was your Pokémon. Give me a hand, will you?” You gesture to three massive sacks of kibble that sat next to a near sky-high stack of bowls. “There are names on the bowls for my guys, you can pick out the right ones for yours.”

 

Guzma walks over to the almost intimidatingly large bags and begins methodically measuring out food for all the Pokémon. This takes a long time, which isn’t surprising considering the sheer number that he had to prepare; by the time he was done, so were you.

 

“Nice,” you grin at him, much too perky in the morning than what was acceptable, “Let’s bring out the grub before they all decide to storm back in here again, then our food would be in grave danger.”

 

“En,” he affirms before grabbing some of the bowls and bringing them into the yard, it takes two runs for the both of you before everyone had their food. They all happily dove in, hungry from the excursions of yesterday and for Snorlax, well, he was always hungry.

 

Stepping back into your house, you seat yourself at the small table in the kitchen beckoning at Guzma who was looking very awkward and uncomfortable. You raise your eyebrows in question, “You okay there?”

 

“Yeah, uh.” He was not the most articulate this morning, you noted while gesturing to the plate across front of you filled with an omelette, some vegetables and a few slices of apple. Sitting down, he looks at the plate with an expression that bordered on pure wonder like it was a dream come true, or something dramatic like that. Picking up a fork, he digs in without a word.

 

Seeing that he had returned to some sort of normal, you eat your breakfast while fiddling with your cellphone checking up on any news that might have occurred in your hometown. Flicking through a couple of group chats with your family and some old friends from Kanto, you smile when you see that your mother had sent a photo of your Oddish.

 

“Why’re you doing this?” The sudden question catches you off guard, making you look at him curiously before turning your phone off and giving him your full attention.

 

There is a pensive expression in your eyes as you reply, “What do you mean? Like everything, or just like why am I ignoring you in favour of my adorable little Oddish?” You can’t help but to take another look at the little round ball of joy you had left behind when you moved out to Alola.

 

“What, no. I don’t give a Rattata’s ass about whatever you’re looking at in your phone.” He feels strangely defensive which comes mixed with anger as it always does, “I’m asking you why you’re housing a criminal.”

 

Your lips were pursed into an unhappy frown when you listen to him speak, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re just someone in need. Don’t think so highly of yourself, you’re not the first ex-Team Skull member to stay here and you probably won’t be the last.” To you, the entire thing means close to nothing; you weren’t lying when you say that he was far from the first person you helped who happened to be ex-Team Skull. It is this in the first place that drove Plumeria to come to you, knowing that you both had the resources and the distinct lack of fear to help some of the kids.

 

There is only one stark difference between them and Guzma, everyone else had reached out to you for aid whereas it is you who has extended the hand towards Guzma. But not out of your own volition, this was a favour for someone else.

 

Hearing your explanation causes a dull ache in his chest; it wasn’t as if he had wanted your willingness to spend time with him meant anything more than pitying him. Or at least that your persistence was something other than simply obligation as an upstanding citizen of Alola.

 

“So what? I’m your new pet project?” Guzma’s tone was accusatory as he casts his angry eyes onto the plate that you had prepared. Suddenly, he no longer felt so blissfully normal, “Tryin’ to see if the ex-Champ can fix up big, bad Guzma after patching up some other little screw-ups.” He feels the ache change into a hot ball of fire that expands so quickly that it’s the only thing that he can feel, it’s familiar and allows him to raise his chin in anger and defiance.

 

Leaping to his feet, he leans over the table to stare provokingly into your eyes that remained infuriatingly blank, “Well guess what, I don’t need your help. Ain’t never needed nobody’s help and I’m not about start now.” Seeing the food in front of him now only incensed him further, reminding him of his weakness and without taking a second to reconsider, he sweeps his arm roughly across the table and sends his unfinished breakfast and its plate crashing to the ground.

 

This time when he looks at you, there is clear vexation flickering in the depths of your eyes that usually smiled with some unknown secret. You had to take a few breaths to ensure that you didn’t just go and strangle the ridiculous man, it’s not as if he had just created a mess for you to clean up. Before you could say anything, your Pokémon had been alerted to the loud noise and were currently trying to shove their way through Guzma’s Pokémon to get to you.

 

You weren’t one with the best temper, after all you were pretty much the opposite of passive, “You don’t need any help, what a pretty lie that is. You don’t even know that you’re doing right now, you’re just stalling. Well guess what? Stalling doesn’t do anything for anyone when there’s no point to it.”

 

“Is this what this is about?” His lips were twisted into a snarl, gray eyes so dark with anger that they looked closer to black as he spat, “Someone playin’ hero, reforming the villain so you can pat yourself on the back and say. ‘Wow, look at the upstandin’ citizen that I helped make.’ People like you are more disgusting that anyone you could find in Team Skull.”

 

Unlike any of your earlier annoyance or anger, the expression on your face was empty of any obvious ticks. Except your jaw was clenched so tight it could have cracked a walnut and your eyes burned with your own fury. “Let me make this clear. I don’t care about changing people, not only is it hard but rarely if ever does it work, it’s not my responsibility to make you a better person. Nor do I even care enough about you to warrant that kind of effort.”

 

You stride purposefully to where he was still speaking, “If ya don’t care, why are ya even helping me? Is it pity then? I don’t need you to _pity_ me, I’m strong enough to take you on any day; I’ll show you why ya shouldn’t take me lightly.”

 

There is a deceiving calm in your eyes as you are nearly chest to chest to him and staring up at him; disliking the way that he was so much taller, you reach up and grab the collar of the sweatshirt. In a surprisingly quick movement, you jerk him down so that you are nose-to-nose as you enunciate, “You. Don’t. Scare. Me. And you never will. I invited you here because someone asked me to, someone who is genuinely concerned about you. I don’t pity you because I barely even care about you. Why would I care about you if I don’t even know you? Do you understand me?”

Your words seem to have taken the wind out of his sails as he mumbles, “So this entire thing wasn’t your idea?” This fact calms him slightly, it dilutes his earlier anger at his perceived pity and self-righteousness.

 

“I’m not a saint,” your voice was dry, your temper quieting when he retracts slightly by stepping back. There is a wry smile on your lips as you look towards the ground, “I also don’t like to clean up other people’s messes.”

 

“So you’re cleaning it,” your voice was forcefully light and brooked no argument when you went to the broom closet to find him the rattiest broom that you owned. “And you’ll do it quickly unless you want me to let Kommo-o in to help.” Even though you said it as if it was a joke, there was a distinct coldness to your tone that hadn’t ever been directed towards him.

 

Seeing the food that you had prepared on the floor; he couldn’t help the twinge of guilt that appeared knowing that you had bothered at all to make the meal. But this was at odds with the frustration he felt at having to both back down and of falsely accusing you of things you hadn’t done. Just another reminder of how much of a mess he was.

 

Snatching the broom from your hand with an angry grumble, he begins to violently sweep the floor with wide strokes and making the mess even worse than it was. You wait for him to calm down and watch as he finally sweeps the fallen food and ceramic into a neat pile at his feet. The entire time all the Pokémon outside are staring in as if the goings-on within the house was the most fascinating thing they’ve ever seen.

 

Bringing the trashcan and dustpan nearby, you soundlessly wait for him to finish cleaning up before heading to the broom closet again to getting the mop to rid the kitchen floor of any stains. Because the kitchen floors were tiled, it didn’t take much to wipe away all of the traces of Guzma’s earlier temper tantrum. While he finished cleaning, you finished your breakfast while staring at him work with a critical eye and sly smile.

 

Seeming to have cooled off adequately, Guzma stands there awkwardly with a mop in his hand and a broom leaning on the chair he had been sitting at while you finish up your morning tea. As soon as you had finished up and brought the dishes to the sink, Kommo-o had managed to squish herself past Golisopod and into the living room. Sending Guzma her version of the evil eye, she joins you in your endeavour to wash dishes by drying them. The rest of the Pokémon file in afterward, all a little subdued after seeing the two of you in an argument.

 

“You can put the stuff back into the closet,” you seem to have completely brushed off what had happened earlier and moved on while you reach into the pantry to get some Pokébeans for all your partners. The brightly coloured little nuggets receive the reaction that they deserve as even the prickliest of Guzma’s Pokémon eagerly come to rest at your legs looking at you with shining eyes. When your temporary housemate returns to where you were standing with a small mountain of bodies surrounding you, you pass him half of the yummy treats to which his partners diverge from yours.

 

Primarina looks completely put out as he nuzzles your arm, wanting a reward for keeping everyone in a state of semi-peace, which you do indeed appreciate. The same goes for Espeon except he is just as energetic as usual since his version of keeping the peace is to use Psychic to keep the warring parties at opposite ends of the yard. The rest of your partners are too busy poking at a dozing Snorlax to do anything, Primarina sees the direction you’re looking at and huffs musically as if launching a complaint at the giant Pokémon’s less than exemplary behaviour.

 

“Okay, okay,” you mollify the miffed Pokémon with the beans and quite a few scratches and pats, which causes some jealous outrage from the others. You don’t mind their playful banter and continue playing with them until their need for attention had been assuaged. It doesn’t take too long, and when it's over and they have all departed for the yard once more to play, you turn to Guzma.

 

“I’ll meet you in half an hour, I need to get changed,” there is the old twinkle in your eye as you climb the stairs, “You might want to get ready too, have you decided which salon you want to go to?” You watch as he reaches a hand into his hair and ruffling it as if he was hesitant to say.

 

“Malie City,” was the answer he gave after a long pause, “Cuz it was the closest to Po Town, we didn’t have Ride Pagers so it was quickest to go there.” There is a frown that creases his forehead, probably thinking about times before the disbandment.

 

But when he says the city, you can’t help but to laugh a little, “Malie, huh? That seems almost a little too fitting. What do you say about heading to the Gardens for a bit after getting your hair dye?” There is a faint smile on your lips as you consider the weather again.

 

. . .

 

It doesn’t take too long to reach Ula’ula Island, what with the constant ferries that were available from Melemele. You had opted not to take most of your partners since there was really no need for them to come along to what you imagined would have been a terribly boring errand run. Kommo-o accompanied you since she had been at home all day yesterday, making you feel a little guilty. When you arrive at the marina, the clouds had only darkened and not started raining, which you were prepared for anyway.

 

“Lead the way,” you gesture sarcastically to the still mildly wary Guzma who still finds it strange that you hadn’t kicked him out or demanded that he do something or rescinded your previous offer of hair dye.

 

Walking past the pathway that lead to the very place the two of you had met for the first time, you let Guzma walk in front to the correct building which stood unassumingly in the vicinity of various others. The dark greens of the roofs were darker than usual due to the lack of sunlight, casting a dreariness over everything. You didn’t mind, in fact you were breathing deep breaths of the cooler air, relishing the feeling of it filling your lungs.

 

“Kommo-o,” you warned when you saw that she was snuffling eagerly at the Hariyama cut out as if hoping for some sort of response. When she realized that it was merely a piece of cardboard, she had reached out to swipe at it for tricking her.

 

Hearing your warning, she backs off reluctantly and returns to your side with a saddened chuff to which you pat consolingly on her scales. You were surprised that Guzma hadn’t let out any of his partners, but you supposed that was for the best by the way that people already seemed on edge at his presence.

 

“So this is it?” You asked, not overly familiar with this specific salon. You personally preferred the one in Konikoni because of its proximity to the market that you liked exploring when you had the chance.

 

“…Yeah,” Guzma’s voice was a little low and almost distracted as he mumbled the response, seeming to crane his neck to peer into the shop. There was definitely something that he saw that startled him because the next thing you knew, he was turning around in a movement that suggested panic.

 

He grabbed you by the wrist and began dragging you away from the salon and towards the clothing store nearby. Unhappy with the way you were being man-handled, you dug your heels in and pulled your arm away from his grip, “What are you doing?”

 

There was the violent sound of a door opening accompanied by the aggressively clanging of the small bell attached. Guzma’s face turned a shade lighter as the sound reaches him and he hisses, “ _She’s_ here.” You don’t have time to put the entire situation together before he has run into the Apparel Shop while you stood at the corner with an equally baffled Kommo-o.

 

Perhaps a few moments later the mysterious _she_ shows up, colourful hair styled to perfection but slightly out of breath in her clear rush. She almost crashes right into you if you didn’t reach out and steady her, “Woah, woah. Where did you come from?”

 

But she was too busy looking around you to answer your question, clearly searching for the person that had opted to hide in some racks of clothing. You sigh, why did things have to be so complicated? It was too much work for someone like you, all you wanted to do was catch some Pokémon. “Yoo-hoo, Plumeria?”

 

Having been unable to find Guzma she returns her gaze to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration, “Huh? What?” You don’t bother correcting her confusion at the sudden disappearance of her estranged friend because you didn’t have too much to do with whatever was going on between them.

 

Rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance, you repeat your first question while waiting slightly impatiently for her answer. When the woman finally replies, you jolt a little in surprise and plainly visible pleasure.

 

“The folks at the salon finally came around and reconsidered their denial of my application, they said that I would intern for a bit before they decided if they were going to keep me,” there is clear pride on her face, eyes that had usually been narrowed in both tiredness and anger were void of such emotions.

 

You share her happiness, slapping a hand onto her back, “Very nice. Now that things are back to normal, you mind taking your old ‘boss’ off my hands? I’m not saying that he’s a pain to deal with, but…actually yeah that’s exactly what I’m saying.” You shoot her a hopeful little smile.

 

Plumeria tilts her head to the side, “He actually came with you? I know I asked you to keep an eye on him, but I can’t imagine that he would stick around you for so long. Hell, he was ready to skin you a few months ago.”

 

“He crashed at my place last night,” you reply, shaking your head slightly, “So I haven’t exactly had the pleasure of seeing if he would run away. It wasn’t exactly honesty that I used to get him to follow me, but really, would you blame me?”

 

The pink and yellow haired woman chuckles lowly, eyes creasing a little with a faint smile on her lips, “No doubt as soon as you said that you were doing as a favour for me he would’ve bolted. Does he know?”

 

“…Kind of?” You looked a little guilty as you bit on your lip, gaze downcast and mulling over the words you had said to him this morning. “I did say that it wasn’t exactly out of the kindness of my heart, which I think should be pretty obvious given my usual _modus operandi_.”

 

At this Plumeria truly laughs, amused by your sheepishness and the thought of your small figure lecturing and blowing up on Guzma who could say little in defence, “So what brings the two of you here? Besides coming to see yours truly, of course.”

 

“Guzma needs hair dye and a haircut, only God knows how long it’s been since he had taken care of that mess on top of his head,” you describe the nest that he was sporting these past two days while Plumeria listened with increasing concern.

 

She begins walking away before tossing a suggestion over her shoulder, “Since he’s being too much of a wimp, guess I’ll just haveta grab the dye he usually uses. Homeboy at least knows enough about dying and cutting to take care of his hair.” It doesn’t take too long for her to duck back into the salon and come back out with two packages of hair bleach as well as an old pair of scissors and a razor.

 

“Here you go,” she passes you the items in a discreet paper bag as you pass her ten thousand Pokédollars for her trouble. She tries to reject it and it’s really going nowhere until you finally explain.

 

“He did me a favour yesterday, so this isn’t going ‘unpaid’. Don’t worry about it, you think I’m too concerned with this much money?” Not that you were eager to shove your wealth into her face, but from what you could gather, you could spare it. She would find it more difficult which was obvious, even if her pride didn’t allow it.

 

“Do you mind?” There is a quietness to her voice that came rarely, a sensitivity that went beyond your expectations. Above all things, she looked tired, much too tired for the young woman that she was, which in turn also tired you.

 

“Guzma?” You answer a tiny smile that played on the edges of your lips. In truth, there was a part of you that sincerely admired Plumeria, for someone so young who had to be the mental support of so many was no easy task. That and her unfailing loyalty to those who desperately needed it was very refreshing. “Not saying that I bask in his presence, but it could have been worse. I mean he could have set off Primarina and flooded the whole place.”

 

At this, the tiredness retreats slightly from her face, mood lightening as she quips, “People are always saying to be wary of your Snorlax; little do they know that the one with the truly explosive temper is your calm Primarina. I must be one of the few he’s brought out the big guns for.”

 

You nod, remembering exactly how volatile the almost always peaceful Pokémon could be when pushed to the edge or when you were pushed to the edge. Kommo-o was once again distracted and wandering about in the direction of the Kantonian Gym while you beckon for her to return to your side.

 

“If you don’t really mind him, could you continue to keep an eye on him?” There was an embarrassed flush on her cheeks as she voices her request, “I know you don’t like him all that much, but I think you’re one of the only people he won’t feel pressure staying with. I tried to convince him to go back to Hala, I know that old man for all his misgivings would take Guzma in a heartbeat, but you can probably guess how that turned out. I’m scared he’s just going to waste away; I have something now that I enjoy and so have many of the ex-members of Team Skull.”

 

“I’ve seen it, the Trial Captains and Kahunas have been pretty accommodating, after all so many of them are just kids that had been pushed into that life. It’s nice to see Team Skull members making malasadas,” you laugh, remembering how strange you thought the scene was. It didn’t take you, or anyone else for that matter, long to adjust to it though.

 

“I just hope that he stops moping, or whatever it is he’s doing,” she sighs, touching her hair absent-mindedly, “It’s too much to ask for you to help him find a dream or whatever, but make sure he’s not just laying about.”

 

There’s a wicked smile on your face as you level her with a stare that promised anything but peace, “You think I’ll let him just sit around? Never in his wildest dreams.”

 

Feeling reassured and likely at the end of whatever time she could spare from her job, Plumeria waves goodbye before returning to the salon with a lightness to her step that you hadn’t seen before. Seeing that she had rounded the corner and disappeared, you ducked into the clothing store that you saw Guzma practically dash into earlier. You wander in and don’t have to wait very long for him appear, still wearing the sweatshirt you had given him as pyjamas and the dark sweatpants he had been sporting yesterday.

 

“Here,” you pass him the paper bag without looking at him, preoccupied with scanning through the shop for clothes that would fit him. “Plumeria sends her regards; there’s your usual stuff in there as well as some scissors and a razor. Since we’re in here already, we might as well pick you up some clothes, I don’t imagine you’ll be having a fun time in my leggings once you’re out of clean clothes.”

 

Guzma was torn between asking what you talked about with Plumeria as well as railing at you for treating him like a kid. He chose the former to satisfy his curiosity, “Why were you out there so long with Plumeria? Was she looking for me? What did you tell her?”

 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you shrug, nonchalant and calm when faced with his questioning, “I didn’t say anything about you, she was just hoping I’ll be able to run into you later to pass on the stuff she had prepared.”

 

“Oh,” his reply was muted, as if distracted by some other thought, “So she doesn’t know? That I’m crashing at your place?” You don’t reply and begin tossing him some random clothing that was lying about that you guessed was in his size.

 

“Don’t know. Don’t care, either ways it doesn’t bother me,” you put a brightly coloured pair of capris into his arms and begin ushering him towards the change rooms with little to no regard to his growing annoyance at your non-answers.

 

“I don’t want you buyin’ things for me, I can take care o’ myself,” he grumbles, annoyed at the thought of relying on you for basically everything. It made him feel pathetic, which was never a good combination. But before he could go on any sort of tirade, you cut him off.

 

Pushing into the small stall, you smile brilliantly, “You think I’m doing this for free? I said we were going to Malie Garden later, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’m not there to see the sights. I want a Castform, and you’re going to be helping me with it.”

 

Concern mildly assuaged, he looks down at the wild conglomeration of clothing he was currently holding in his arms. There was almost no sight of the familiar black, white, or gray he usually donned, instead there was effectively every shade of the rainbow. Picking through the items, he found a pair of loose-fitting joggers as well as a beige coloured pull-over that he could tolerate. Deciding to try on a t-shirt or two with the intention of using them as sleepwear he finds himself in a deep purple one that he liked. But it would destroy his monochromatic thing that was going on, as he studied himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, he felt quite unkempt.

 

His hair was an unspeakable mess and his face was coloured with exhaustion, bags that had nothing to do makeup were clearly visible beneath his eyes. The month hasn't been kind to him, he had lost quite a bit of weight from being unable to eat and sleep regularly, he glanced at his scrawny looking arms with a bit of disgust. His eyes darkened with the remembrance of words launched in his face about his inability and uselessness, annoyance appearing unbidden.

 

“You done ogling yourself yet?” Your voice came from above, startling him and causing him to cover himself as a reaction to your ‘peeping’. Your eyes could be seen at the top of the stall curtains, smiling with a glint of evil intentions. “Hey, that looks nice. Very snazzy, you’re getting it.”

 

For some reason, hearing you speak pulls him out of his earlier anger and he decides not to dwell too long on his thoughts, exiting the change room with a few items perched on his arm. Guzma realizes how you were able to peer into his changeroom when he seems you sitting on Kommo-o’s shoulders all while the dragon Pokémon happily bounces about.

 

“Pass them,” you slide down and snatch the clothing from his hold, without waiting for a second more, you’ve purchased them and have them put into a bag. Ensuring that he had his own hair stuff, you both stride out of the store and into the rain.

 

“I wish your stupid Castforms would choose better times to show up,” Guzma made a face as he felt the droplets of water splatter into his hair and onto his body. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant since the rain wasn’t cold, more of a lukewarm.

 

You chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement and relishing the sensation of the rain falling onto you. “I mean, I’m almost sure that you would rather rain than a sandstorm. I would count your blessings if I were you.” Kommo-o didn’t seem to care much for the rain and nudged at you in request to return to her Pokéball to which you acquiesce.

 

It’s oddly quiet as the two of you walk through the rain, the hood of your sweater was flipped up to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. The mood seemed quite affected by the overcast weather, what with there being a distinct lack of people out, leaving just you and Guzma walking in the usually bustling city. When you reach the entrance of the garden, you can’t help but chuckle a little in memory of the way you both first met.

 

“That seemed like _ages_ ago,” you enunciate, recalling the spectacle that you had stumbled upon. His once over-confident demeanor was nowhere to be seen now, replaced with instead a muted fatigue that really didn’t suit him. “The only thing that didn’t change is the fact that you still can’t beat me and my partners in a battle.”

 

Unlike the way that he used to say this to others, with an expression of arrogance and derision, the way you spoke was filled with an innate playfulness that suggested instead an invitation. Even in the gloomy weather you seemed to exude a brightness that infused you with a glow that he couldn’t help but to be attracted to. It was just so different from everyone else’s expectations and criticisms; you seemed to care little about any of that, you just wanted to have some fun.

 

He couldn’t help it, he wanted a bit of that sunniness, a blatant disregard to anything but what he truly wanted from life. What he could never get. Sending you a provoking smirk, he scoffs, “In your dreams, baby.” Except as soon as the word left his mouth, it changed from its intended purpose of being an insult to almost flirtatious which was _not_ his intention. Was it?

 

Anyway, you were staring at him as if he had grown a second head, trying to decipher what exactly he was trying to pull with this stunt. It was bizarre, to say the least, you tried to not let the ‘endearment’ get to you but having not been flirting or flirted with in a long time made you more flustered than it should have.

 

Guzma watched with a quickening heartbeat as a slight pink appeared on your cheeks, contrasting appealingly to the dreary background, making you, there was really no other way to put it, _cute_. The pause hung about until you two reach the little gazebo you had first battled at and you turn to him and say, “Let’s duke it out here sometime, when it isn’t so rainy. You can back up your claims then, but for now, just accept that I can lord my victories over you.”

 

“They were skewed anyway in your favour every time,” he grumbled underneath his breath, remembering the numerous times that you had been able to best him in something he thought he had been undeniably good at. “You always faced me when my partners had been worn out by previous battles.”

 

You side eye him, a look of skepticism on your face as you remind him, “Hm. Yes, _your_ Pokémon had definitely been the exhausted ones when I stormed my way to the Shady House. It definitely wasn’t mine who had been wading knee-deep through your little gr—”

 

“Okay, I get it. Damn it, you really have trouble shutting up,” Guzma cut you off, something that sounded suspiciously like a huff emerging from his lips as he began stomping through the rain. He was headed towards the North Eastern corner of the garden for some reason, and not having much other concerns, you follow.

 

As you hurry through the rain, you almost miss the appearance of Guzma’s doted on partner who burst from his capsule clearly without him calling for him. Golisopod seems a little confused as he glances about, scanning the empty garden that was thoroughly unpleasant with the onslaught of rain. He swings his head towards where Guzma was marching and wading through grass to where you were leisurely walking towards where his friend was.

 

You wave energetically to the large white bug, bearing nothing that would imply ill will; especially with the fact that you elected not to bring any of your own partners. Of course, he and Snorlax had solved whatever issues that they had, in fact he quite enjoyed the straightforward way the gluttonous Pokémon lived life. The one he didn’t care for was Primarina, knowing that he was the one he would suffer the most from if he pushed past his bottom line.

 

“Why here?” You ask Guzma when you finally reach where he was hiding behind a statue while staring into what seemed like nothing from far away. He turns around and with an expression of seriousness shushes you.

 

“Quiet, you want your Castform right? Then keep yer trap shut or you're goin’ to scare’em all off,” he gestures you to duck down as well and wait. His eyes seemed hyper focused as he scanned the small area with feverish concentration.

 

With such an intense expression on his face, it sharpened his features and gave them life like none of his other emotions. It made his gray eyes glint brightly and his lips upturn into an unconventionally charming smile, he really could be quite handsome.

 

You jab an elbow into his side in retaliation to his earlier crassness, “Doesn’t mean you can be a dick about it, a simple reminder would suffice. You’ve seen them here before?” The question hasn’t even left your lips for three seconds before a raindrop, a _massive_ raindrop appears.

 

“Well even if I hadn’t ever seen 'em before, I’ve seen one now,” he comments, looking at your exuberant self who was excitedly drinking in the vision in front of you now. The little Pokémon was floating around unsuspecting of the veritably hungry way you were eyeing the poor thing.

 

Golisopod mistook both of your hiding to be out of fear and so without any encouragement lunges out from behind the statue at the Castform. By some miracle the terrified raindrop doesn’t run away and Guzma is shouting at you to chuck a Pokéball at it.

 

To which you reply, “Oh my God, just give me a second. I’m getting it, stop breathing down my neck!” And snatching the very first sphere your hand touches you realize too late that it’s a very expensive luxury ball. But to both of your shock the black sphere shakes three times before clicking, truly an anti-climactic ending to this journey.

 

Letting out the weather Pokémon out from its new capsule knowing that she would prefer to enjoy the rain while it was still around, you joyfully let the small thing float about you curiously. Touching the raindrop-like head, you were surprised by the texture of liquid that was there, silky soft and cool to the touch.

 

Castform seemed to be quite happy with you, or perhaps just the luxury ball, and took to floating on your head and gathering rain droplets so that you no longer were being beaten down by the weather. She seemed to not be very receptive to Guzma, likely because the Golisopod that had startled her earlier was hanging around him very closely.

 

“Hello,” you greet, eyes dancing in the dim light as if waiting for the moment that Castform would accept you. In the next moment the dewdrop had launched itself at you, spraying you with a jet of water playfully.

 

Spluttering slightly, you push your soaked hair out of your face, the strands were sticking stubbornly to your face. You chide, “Wrong person, you should hit him.” And before Guzma could react to your informal declaration of war, Castform had already gleefully soaked an already most soaked Guzma.

 

Peals of your laughter echo in the empty park as you watch him drown in his wet clothing, he whips his gaze to you in annoyance clearly unappreciative of your ‘prank’. But seeing you send him a challenging smirk, makes his own lips lift into a sly grin. “Golisopod, are you going to let her get away with that?” The bug had been standing a little way away after being chastised lightly by Guzma for storming out at the wrong time.

 

Seeing the large Pokémon turn your way with the likely intention of sending you a waterfall of water, you make a mad dash _towards_ where the other trainer was standing. But alas, you fail to dodge in time, and you are knocked over by the strong jet of water. But the strength of the ‘attack’ is enough to push you the extra few metres and into Guzma, who unsuspecting of the turn of events tumbled to the ground.

 

He could feel your weight on top of him, quivering with the laughter that he could hear and even he couldn’t resist it. When he opens his eyes, all he can see is your gleeful expression as you pull yourself off of him in deft movements, the sight of Golisopod shuffling awkwardly pushes him over the edge.

 

In the rain, with no one around he laughs. It had been so long since he felt this way, carefree and uncaring of whatever the next moment might bring, knowing that news meant bad news. Who cared? Certainly not you, as you beckoned the Castform and directing him to shoot water at the wary bug Pokémon, who begins dodging cheekily from all your attacks. As the rain sluiced down from his hair and down his neck, it was as if it was washing away his worries and concerns that seemed so insignificant in the face of what life could be. Laying down in the grass surrounded by the earthy scent, he closes his eyes in a rare aura of peace relishing in the quiet noise of the rain. If there was something he regretted the rain washing away, it was the fading warmth that you had left behind.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time, chapters will be roughly 8K words so they take a while to happen. Hopefully you enjoyed and the plot thickens...


	3. Checkers and Construction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You like checkers, and Guzma checks you out.

_ In Which the Retired Champion Plays a Game  _

 

By the time you both are able to walk back through the dramatic gates of Malie Garden, there is no part of you that isn’t soaked through courtesy of both the rain, Castform, and Golisopod. Seeing the rain was not letting up anytime soon, you flash your equally miserable looking ‘assistant’ a smile, “I don’t think the ferry will be running in this weather, nor do I think staying out in the rain will result in anything besides a horrible cold.”

 

Pushing the soaked strands of hair out of his face after shaking his head a little to rid it of some water, Guzma responds flippantly, “So what’s the plan then?” Despite the weather, he felt surprisingly good, a lightness that gave him the ability to stop worrying.

 

“Let’s head over to the Pokémon Centre, dry off in a room there and wait it out,” was your reply as you hold a hand over your eyes, trying to shield your vision from the downpour. Castform bobbed unconcerned in front, still floating about happily in the rain with an equally water-loving Golisopod. After some stilted efforts on the insect Pokémon’s end, the two struck up an unlikely companionship, which was likely based solely off of their mutual appreciation of rainy weather.

 

It doesn’t take too long for you two to drag your dripping selves into the warm and blessedly dry centre, trailing an obvious stream of water to the front desk where Nurse Joy was waiting. Her pink hair was styled to perfection as usual, but there was a slight smile of amusement wasn’t part of her typical attire.

 

“Welcome to Malie City’s Pokémon Centre, how can I help you?” The pink haired woman didn’t even bat an eyelash at the sorry state you were both in, having seen at least twenty others in similar straits.

 

Tucking wet strands of hair behind your ears as you reach into your backpack, rummaging past the clothing and hair supplies hurriedly stuffed in there for your wallet. “Well the weather seems intent on keeping us landlocked for the next while, could I get two rooms where we could stay to shower and dry off?”

 

Flicking through the large monitor on her desk, a slight frown mars her almost always pleasant face, “I’m sorry, but it seems that we are out of day rooms. The weather seems to have sent a lot more people here than usual, we only have a few overnight rooms left if you were interested?”

 

Shrugging, you pass her your ID and card, “Yeah, that’s fine. Since it’s an overnight room, we’ll only need one. There’re two beds, right?”

 

As Nurse Joy clicks rapidly, she nods, “Yes, it is the standard fare.” A sly glint appears in her eye as she studies the two of you again, “Unless you two would like a stay in our honeymoon suite, that is still available.”

 

Slowly you turn your head to look at Guzma who had an equally baffled expression on his face, the two of you hold the stare for a few moments before you dissolve into laughter. You shake your head, “I think we’re good, if we were indeed on our honeymoon, I would hope that we had been better planned than being caught in a rainstorm.” The ease at which you dismissed the assumption startled your companion slightly, it was as if you were used to deflecting situations like this. The thought wasn’t particularly pleasant.

 

Grabbing the two room keys from Nurse Joy, and passing one to Guzma, you start towards the elevator that would take you to the living areas. Castform was a little put out that there was no longer any rain and reverted back to his ‘default’ form; but there was far from nothing for her to explore. You look over at your surprisingly quiet company, strange that he wasn’t making any snarky quips or conversation in general.

 

“You alright there?” There was a shadowed expression on his face, eyes unfocused and clearly far away as you ask him, there is clearly something that was on his mind. He couldn’t help it; you were far from an unappealing person so why was it that you seemed to have no one in your life? But this only triggers the reality that he knew virtually nothing about you, not your family life or your home, while you seemed to know so much about him already. The imbalance was unsettling, making him uncharacteristically curious about you.

 

“Why’d you come to Alola?” He blurts the question out, not pausing to think whether this might be crossing one of your own boundaries. You raise an eyebrow at the inquiry, not really surprised at the question, it didn’t take too long for anyone who spent a few days in your company to pose it.

 

Unlocking the door to your spacious room, you respond while flicking the lights open, “The thrill of adventure, duh.” A sarcastic lilt is added to your voice as you continue, “Which is half of the truth I suppose. I wanted to get away from Kanto, for a little while at least so I could figure out what I wanted to do after school. Never thought I would like Alola so much though; besides the heat, I feel like I belong here.”

 

“But all your friends and family are in Kanto, and Alola is far,” he found it difficult to understand that you would want to uproot yourself from what should have been a comfortable life.

 

Placing your bag down and taking out both your clothes, you mumble distractedly, “You act as if you can’t make new friends, I enjoy meeting new people and exploring new places. Besides, if I hadn’t come, I never would have realized how much I was missing out in life.” Pulling your dripping hair into a haphazard bun, you grin at him, “I tend not to think about the finer details too often, just do what you want to do and work at it. Things tend to work out that way.”

 

Before Guzma could ask you something else, you toss him his newly purchased clothes, “You shower first, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold or something.” And then with little to no regard to his presence you begin taking off your wet clothing, shucking your sweater by pulling it over your head. This action reveals a sliver of your slim abdomen, your damp t-shirt clinging insistently to your waist as you turn to look at him gaping at you unattractively. You look pointedly at Guzma as he stiffly turns around and goes into the bathroom slightly reluctantly. You want to roll your eyes, but instead an amused grin slides across your curled lips, you really didn’t mind him.

 

. . .

 

 You were sitting on the floor, not wanting to get the couch or bed wet, waiting for Guzma to finish up so you could finally wash off the dirt and grass off your skin. While he was showering, you went down to the main foyer and retrieved the Salandit you caught yesterday in place of your newly acquired Castform. The cute fire lizard was a little skittish, but nothing a few treats couldn’t soften and soon it was perching happily on your shoulder.

 

The warmth that emanated from the small creature drove away the slight chill of the water as she wrapped her tail around your neck and nuzzling lightly at your damp hair. You chuckle at the sensation, enjoying the attention and rubbing her head in return. Even though you never got cold, being wet for so long was definitely taking its toll on you.

 

One of the reasons you had pushed Guzma to shower first was because of your innate ability to drive off the chill on your own, you were practically immune to the cold, running the temperature of a small coal stove all the time. While he, on the other hand, being far from his peak condition was much more likely to get sick from running about in the rain for so long.

 

The door opens, steam curling about greedily in the cooler air as Guzma steps out, pleasantly flushed and looking much better than he had ever looked since you had met. There was a relaxed air about him that you hadn’t ever seen before, which was completely understandable. He was constantly thinking about this or that, concerned about the well-being of well over thirty teenagers.

 

“You seem to have enjoyed that shower,” you tease, eyes appraising his relaxed stance and too lean form. You hadn’t paid it that much attention before, but it was clear that he had lost a significant amount of weight since the last time you saw him. It would do him a world of good to eat and get out more, it was clear that life had been quite rough on him.

 

Guzma pushes his damp hair back, longer strands dangling quite close to his shoulders and looking purposefully messed up instead of just stumbling out of the shower. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue basketball shorts and a white t-shirt that hung a little bit loosely from his figure. He looks down at where you were entertaining your Salandit, “Yeah, yeah. You go before you catch a cold.”

 

A sneaky glint appeared in your eyes as you turn to him with a grin, “Oh are you worried about me? You’re going to set my heart all a-flutter.”

 

“Do you usually enjoy making things so awkward,” he grumbles, but his embarrassment is revealed by the hand he sticks into the grown-out strands of hair at his nape. “Do it quickly so I can go back in later to do my hair.”

 

You place the fire lizard onto the ground and request, “I’m going to be in there,” at this you point at the bathroom, “Be good until I come back, listen to Guzma.” Here you gesture at the still hair-conscious male that was sorting through his mussed-up strands of half-bleached hair.

 

 Your Salandit blinked up at you, seemingly not understanding anything that you said but you don’t pay her any mind and duck into the bathroom with your clothes in hand. It doesn’t take too long for the water to start, and your lizard finally moves towards Guzma with slow movements.

 

He stares at the expressively dead lizard with an unhealthy amount of trepidation as she plods ever closer, not blinking a single time the entire time. Deciding not to let such a small thing intimidate him, he walks over to where a desk stood with a small mirror resting on it. Sinking into the padded desk chair, he sighs tiredly and begins wondering how exactly this all happened and what you wanted from him.

 

Resting a cheek on his hand that was propped up on the desk, Guzma begins thinking about what he was going to do after your patience with him inevitably ran out. After all, you likely didn’t consider him a friend; what friend caused so much trouble? But most of all, he knew he wasn’t good enough call you his friend, you were so successful and well-loved by pretty much all of Alola. He lets out a scoff as he recalls the uneasiness in people’s faces when he came too close and the look disgust on the person he had always wished for approval from.

 

So caught up in his thoughts, he barely registers the fact that your Salandit had scaled his body and was making herself comfortable on his shoulder, warm tail slithering around his neck lightly. When he feels faintly ticklish sensation, he looks down to see a pair of soulless dark eyes staring right back at him, but before he could react, he hears the bathroom door click open.

 

Your face seemed to glow with vitality, a soft red could be found painted lightly onto your cheeks as you stepped out from the humid bathroom. Unconsciously he trailed his eyes over your figure, seeing you dressed casually in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that was tucked into your bottoms. However, when his eyes passed your chest expecting the board that was usually present, he found himself staring at how your t-shirt clearly clung to your chest in a way that suggested…

 

And then he was choking, your Salandit’s tail that had been harmlessly circling his neck had tightened significantly and cut off a large part of his airway in an action so sudden that he wheezed a few times even after she released her hold. Before he could even sputter out a complaint, you had beckoned at your now evidently evil fire lizard with a doting expression on your face.

 

“Aw honeybunches, you shouldn’t have,” your Salandit, with no disturbance of expression had plodded quickly away from Guzma and returned to her original post on your shoulder. Your smile held a touch of malevolence as you spoke to him, “You’d best be on your best behaviour when she’s around,” at this your Slandit’s frill flutters in happiness, “She’s got a bit of a chip on her shoulder about perverts.”

 

At this point, Guzma decided that it was probably within his best interests to keep his mouth shut, you were clearly not very appreciative of his open gaping. Not that anyone should be blaming him, clearly something was amiss here; things were not adding up, which pushes him to open his mouth (against his better judgement). “Where did those come from?”

 

But no sooner did the words leave his mouth that he regretted them, couldn’t he have phrased it slightly better? Anything could have been better than that line, he felt like a sleazy loner hoping for a good time at a bar or something, however, this comes from experience so it can’t really be counted to his character.

 

You cocked an eyebrow, annoyed that this was even a conversation as you say, “You act like breasts are ghosts, that they only exist if they’re in front of your face. I’m not going to explain to you how boobs work, that is way above my paygrade. If you have any inquiries of that nature, please direct them elsewhere.”

 

But hearing you talk about breasts and the sort only causes his eyes to drift back to your body, re-evaluating everything he thought he knew. Even though you weren’t exactly the most curvaceous woman he’s met, there was something distinctly attractive to your well-proportioned frame. You were clearly trim from your day-to-day workload and prior adventures, so when paired with the gently flared lines of your hips and chest, you were really…hot.

 

And this thought jolts him out of his daze, realizing that he has been staring at you, and not your face, for the past few moments. There is an obvious tick to your cheek, but mixed in with annoyance is something more delicate, something that got Guzma’s heart pumping quickly in his chest. It was also the very first time that you turned away from him, walking briskly to the door of the room with Salandit plodding behind you.

 

Your eyes were hard and still flashing with irritation, but your mouth was softer as you mutter, “I’m going down to the lobby to get some food. You can use the bathroom while I’m gone to fix up the catastrophe that is currently your hair. I’ll be back.” And with that, you had disappeared, and he was alone in the now too quiet room.

 

. . .

 

You wanted to hit yourself, what was going on with you? Why didn’t you feel angry when Guzma was so blatantly staring at you, it didn’t make any sense. Neither did the fact that your stomach was flipping around a bit when you realized this fact, it was all so frustrating. You were sure that this was just an off-moment thing, something that was a conglomeration of a bunch of emotions running rampant.

 

But as your mind wandered back to Guzma in those moments in the rain, you cannot deny that there was something too magnetizing in those gray eyes when they were sharpened in focus and softened with happiness. Something that made your chest light when his eyes were without shadow and clear.

 

As you step quietly into the bustling lobby of the Pokémon Centre, you note that there were so many people that it was likely getting close to full capacity. Young adolescents and children alike were sopping wet and drying to find comfort in the warm centre, clearly quite far from home. You squeezed your way through the crush of bodies towards the café, wondering if they had the Roserade Tea that you were quite enamoured with in recent times.

 

However, when it was time for you to order, your eyes trailed inexplicably to another drink on the menu and without thinking too much about it, you order it without a hitch in your breath. Besides the drinks, you buy a few sandwiches and are prepared to return to your room when a shelf next to the magazines catches your attention. An excited gleam enters your eyes as you take in the stock.

 

. . .

 

It takes longer than he would like to get it done, bleaching things take time, especially with the shade of white he usually sported. After trimming his hair roughly to the way he wanted it to be, he begins treating it with practised ease. He’s still waiting for the bleach to do its job when you return laden with so many items that it was a wonder nothing took a tumble.

 

Setting down the drinks and food, you place the largest item on the desk with a hefty bang; the sound of a metal tin hitting against the wood. You look at the _interesting_ vision he made, tin foil covered head and roughly cut hair, and swallow back a laugh. It was going to be fun watching him ‘fix’ his hair like Plumeria claimed that he could; you on the other hand was skeptical.

 

“What’s that?” He gestured to the tin with a picture of a six-pointed star, “Candy or somethin’?” He watches as you pass him a steaming glass of Tapu Cocoa, which differed greatly from the clean and _boring_ cup of tea you were nursing.

 

Taking a sip of the sweet drink and feeling its warmth slide soothingly down his throat, he relishes in the taste that he had missed in the last few weeks. Although, it was a little strange. “How didja know I liked Tapu Cocoa?”

 

Placing your cup onto the table and unpacking the tin, you look at him with a dry smile on your lips, “Don’t feel too flattered, it’s your grunts that know what your favourite drink is, not me. If it _was_ me, the sweetest drink known to man would definitely not be on the list.”

 

A vehement glower was sent your way as he takes another slow drink of the chocolatey goodness that danced on his tongue, making him feel safe again. At home in his room at the Shady House, where he was supposed that he belonged. It was disappointing to remember that this was nothing more than a reprieve from the fact that he still had nothing besides the clothes on his back and his partners. But he pushes this thought to the back of his mind, deciding to think about those things when the time came, for now he would savour the warmth of the room and the Tapu Cocoa in his hands.

 

Opening the tin with some eagerness, you begin setting up the small star-shaped board, picking out all the pegs and sorting them into the right colours before taking the small pile of red ones. You look up at him, “Pick a colour, not red. We’re playing Chinese Checkers; you know how to play right?”

 

Looking down at the colourful array of pegs and board, he chooses the right shade that was perpendicular to your happy set of red, it happened to be green. Placing the wooden pieces so that it filled his end of the star, he replies, “I know how to play, you’d be surprised by how well. I guarantee you’ll get your ass handed to you.”

 

“I wouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch,” you raise your eyebrow at his non-feigned confidence, “I take it you had too much time on your hands back in Po Town.”

 

Guzma shrugs, face a careful blank as he responds to your assumption, “I guess you could say that, before Aether Team Skull didn’t have much to do besides run around and make some trouble. The most I hadta do was keep ’em numbskulls from gettin’ caught.”

 

“Ladies first,” you move your peg without waiting for his expected objection of your advantage, “Unless you would like to argue with this logic?”

 

His mouth that was open to argue shuts as he moves a piece of his own board, the familiar fire of competition alighting in his stomach and making him stare closely at the board with a contemplative expression as the game dragged on. It seemed that your skill levels were roughly on par with each other, neither giving an inch as you attempted to move all your pegs to his side of the board. As the first game drew closer to its end, you notice an incredibly convenient opening that he should have seen and blocked. But instead, he experienced a momentary lapse of judgment, worried about another one of your pegs that refused to let a way through for his.

 

So when you emerged victorious due to a combination of luck and convenience, you were immediately challenged to another match by a disbelieving Guzma. Seeing no reason to refuse and enjoying the previous game, you grin provokingly, “Sure, sore loser. Bring it on, I’ll be sure to rub it in your face if you lose again.”

 

Guzma threw a piece of loose lettuce at your unsuspecting face, “Shut up, you know you only won cause I was going easy on you. I’m putting on my game face on, you won’t even see what hit you.” At this he schools his features into a hard grimace.

 

Seeing his exaggerated expression, you burst into loud chortles at the way he looked, “Oh my God, stop that! You look like you’re constipated, not attractive at all.”

 

“Oh? Does that mean that I’m plenty good-lookin’ when I ain’t making this face?” there was a purposefully aware smile on his lips as he tilted his gaze to meet yours in a long moment.

 

Feeling like the rug had been pulled from beneath your feet, you fall back to your usual reaction to things like this, “Would you rather I say that you were ugly beyond compare when making that face? If so, I have no qualms of saying so.” But you couldn’t really deny his, there was no other way to put it, bad-boy type of charm, which should have clashed with the softer lines that made up his face (besides his eyebrows of course). It worked though, and you wondered when you started thinking he was attractive.

 

You stayed silent as you pondered this, being someone who very staunchly avoided these kinds of feelings when you first got to Alola and was trying to start a new life. You moved a peg, eyes sweeping across the board slowly before lifting to meet his slightly confused ones. His confusion pushes you to an amused smile, making you realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much you didn’t realize that he had an unconventional charm that made him strikingy handsome, but because you never cared to notice.

 

Watching him gently chew on his lip in thought as he sat cross-legged directly in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that you’ve begun caring about him, at least platonically. But caring for people was infinitely exhausting, and you stand by your mantra of not changing people, yet there was a growing part of you that wanted to help him. You didn’t know everything, but with subtle hints here and there and your own intuition, you were able to piece things together. Guzma used anger as a band-aid for everything, this much was obvious, but his wounds were so numerous that it became the only thing he wrapped himself with.

 

Even if you wanted to help, you understood that it was far from your place to. In the end, everything depended on him, not anyone else; this depressing note makes you throw the ominous thoughts to the back of your mind. For now, you would play checkers with him and enjoy it.

 

And it was quite enjoyable.

 

. . .

 

Waking up from your restful night of sleep, you note the sunlight that streamed strongly through the window indicating the departure of yesterday’s rain and clouds. Raising your arms above your head to stretch, your fingers bump into the warm body of you Salandit who had slept on the headboard of the bed. You feel her small body latch onto your arm and begin to climb down to nestle in the crook of your neck with a content gurgle.

 

Rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, you glance towards the only other bed in the room only to see Guzma splayed out obscenely on top of the covers. There was evidence of a fitful sleep that was caught by your keen eyes that lingered on the way the blankets seemed bunched and kicked. You sighed, wondering if what you were doing was really a good idea.

 

As you sit up, Salandit still on your shoulder, you begin making plans for the day. You would have to return to Melemele, since your Pokémon were still at home and likely wreaking havoc on everything and everyone. After going to the bathroom and washing up, you change into now dried clothes from yesterday sans sweater of course while debating how you wanted to wake the still sleeping Guzma. Upon closer inspection, you notice that tension and anger easily add several years onto his clearly still youthful face, which was visible now.

 

You glance down at the lizard who was already making her way to the male, clearly with a plan of her own; you just hoped it didn’t include his singeing his newly sorted out hair. Pulling your own hair out of your face and tying it, you stifle a chuckle as your Salandit began stepping all over his face and chewing on his freshly bleached hair.

 

When his eyes opened to see your evil lizard munching on his prized locks, the shock jolts him awake and he was sitting up in a matter of seconds as your Salandit cleverly makes herself scarce. You greet him with a too bright smile that hid your amusement at the scene just made, “Morning sleeping beauty, we’ve got to head back to Melemele to check up on my house. Only the God knows what kind of condition it’s in, maybe in the afternoon you can help me find a Mareanie.”

 

“Jeez, you want all of Plumeria’s team or what?” Guzma yawns lazily, mind still at way below half its functioning capabilities. “Should’ve just gotten her to breed ya a few of her Pokémon.”

 

“And let her have all the fun?” You argue, lips curling into a sneaky grin, “Admit it, the last two days were fun, right? Even the ‘big, bad boss’ can’t deny a truth like that.”

 

Sticking his hand into his cloud of white hair, trying to flatten it slightly into a form that was slightly less chaotic, Guzma rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, I’m just along for the ride.” But he realizes this is the wrong (or right?) thing to say when you materialize to where he was sitting and, with a boldness that was inherent to your every action, place your warm hands on the sides of his face.

 

Your eyes were wide and searching, sweeping over his face multiple times as if trying to discern something as you speak, “You’re not having fun?” There is a serious shine in your luminous gaze as your face drew closer and closer to his until he could almost feel the heat that emanated from your body.

 

The proximity caused him to take a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but it only allowed your unfairly intoxicating scent to enter his lungs. It was surprisingly unobtrusive, reminding him of the warm sunshine with the faintest of floral touch, as it permeated the air around him. Unable to maintain eye contact anymore, he turns to the side with a too obvious redness to his skin, “Okay. Fine, it’s fun. Are you happy now?”

 

Releasing your hold, you bounce away from him with a cheeky expression dancing across your features, “Good. Now get changed, we’re heading down for a quick breakfast before hopping on the first ferry back. There is so much to do, no use in hanging out in this room any longer than we must.”

 

Wondering how exactly you were able to contain so much energy, enough to run three identically sized individuals, Guzma drags himself to the bathroom to wash up. He was almost all clear when the vision of your face so close to his flashes across his idle mind; after nearly choking on his toothpaste, he resolves to not think about it anymore. Shaking the way you burned with life and wanting to forget the delicate colour of your lips that looked too suited to kissing, he walks out of the room.

 

You were fixing a baseball cap across your brow when you hear him re-enter, “Ready?”

 

. . .

 

“I’m telling ya, the stuff they serve at the Centres are poor excuses of what Tapu Cocoa is _supposed_ to be,” Guzma’s voice was deadly serious as he walks beside you, Golisopod happily lumbering beside him, completely at ease in your presence. “Not nearly enough milk, and they don’t even bother adding somethin’ special to give it that addictive quality.”

 

You seemed very unimpressed, “I really don’t care if the Centre’s Cocoa is straight up nasty, but from what I’m gathering is that Tapu Cocoa is supposed to even sweeter than that tooth-aching sweetness at the café. No thanks.”

 

He fought back the urge to groan loudly in frustration and tear at his newly organized hair, “Not sweeter, but _better_. Forget it, clearly, you have no appreciation for the finer things in life.” Guzma voice was deceptively calm, but already he was concocting ways to make you love the stuff.

 

“So what? Any cocoa is going too sweet to enjoy anything else about it,” there was a part of you, the larger part, that loved needling him and watching him puff with frustration. It was too much fun to see him riled up about these little things, like poking a volatile bear that you knew was as harmless as a cub.

 

Guzma scoffs, “You’ve clearly just never had good Tapu Cocoa. Only those who haven’t seen the light say such things, you have yet to be blessed by the perfect hot cocoa. I feel sorry for you.”

 

“Well I guess you’ll have to introduce me to your ever-so-wonderful Tapu Cocoa sometime,” you say, eyes trailing to the familiar sight of your house that loomed closer. “What will you do if I find it just as terrible as I do normal cocoa?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t be seen associatin’ with someone with no soul,” there was a teasing note to his voice as he continues, “Only the truly heartless could turn away a perfect cup of cocoa for a drink as bland and tasteless as _tea_.

 

“You do not get to insult my choice in drink,” you puffed, eyes glinting with steel as you level him with a light glower, “Tea is the ultimate drink: not only delicious but hydrates you properly unlike liquid chocolate.”

 

Guzma rolls his eyes in an exaggerated motion, “I can’t believe I thought you were a teenager, your taste in drinks tells the whole story.” He then shakes his head in mock disappointment only to stop a few seconds in when your elbow makes intimate contact with his side.

 

“You do not get to talk about drinks in relation to age, Mr. Destruction in Human Form who is positively obsessed with a kid’s drink,” you shoot back at him, daring him to say something to defend himself. Which he does, or rather he opens his mouth to argue only to be interrupted the deep bellied laughter of none other than the Island Kahuna himself.

 

“I see the rumours have merit,” the deeply tanned man chortles loudly, unheeding of the obvious way that Guzma was trying to look in any direction but at Hala. “But couldn’t believe it until I saw it myself.”

 

Seeing that the white-haired male wasn’t going to be looking at him, he turns to you with a wide smile that did not completely hide his concern, “You’ve been taking good care of this boy? You better be, don’t be bullying him like you do to all the others.”

 

You try to resist the urge to make a face at the heavy-set man but fail and stick your tongue out at him, “Like I bully anyone, if there was ever a bully, I would bet my bottom dollar that it was Hau. That kid is so pushy, I have no doubt one day he’ll push me down a cliff.”

 

“Good,” Hala replied, unheeding of the boggled expression on your face, “Anyway, I came here because I needed to ask you for some help.” He paused before purposefully looking at Guzma who meets his eyes by accident.

 

“Shoot,” you cock your hip to the side as you wait for the Island Kahuna to reveal what he wanted from you, it was clear he was present to check up on Guzma’s condition so the added request was a little intriguing.

 

“Needed you to fix a roof, but since Guzma is here, he can come with. We could use the extra pair of hands,” Hala begins to explain what havoc his wayward grandson had gotten into these days, “That Incineroar of his will be the death of all good things in the world, the giant cat has such a temper! The other day I gave him the wrong flavoured kibble and he punched a hole right through the roof. The ingrate.”

 

“You act like mild destruction isn’t an everyday occurrence in that house,” you make your way up the steps and open the door with deft movements, upon seeing the grass and mud that littered every inch of your home you shut the door. “But then again, that is also the perpetual state of my place.”

 

As if hearing your voice from the yard, your team bounds (filthy from yesterday’s romps in the rain) happily to where you were standing with your arms crossed in anger. The two other males remained silent as they watched you begin to chew your partners out. But your anger runs out quicker than they can blink and you're fawning over the suitably spoiled Pokémon with no remembrance of their earlier mistakes.

 

Guzma looks down at where you were cuddling a dirty gray Espeon who purred with happiness, “You are terrible at holding’em accountable for what they did wrong.”

 

You don’t even glance at him as you reply with an amused smile to your face, “You act like you don’t let your Pokémon get away with murder. I don’t like it when pots call kettles black.” Seeing that he had no response to your snarky response, you stand and say to Hala. “As you can see, I’ve got a mess of my own to clean up.”

 

When Hala sees the impish look in your eyes, he is certain that either he or Guzma isn’t going to like what you were going to say next but would be powerless to say no. You turned towards Guzma and say, “Since I’ll be tied up here, you’ll have to go in my place to fix the roof. What a pity, I was so looking forward to almost falling to my death.”

 

Said white-haired non-gentleman started rejecting your modest proposal, but it was too late. Hala had slung a large and not to mention, heavy, arm over his shoulder and began dragging him in the direction of Iki Town. Seeing the encouraging expression on your face allows him to be pulled further and further away from where you stood waving energetically.

 

Your voice is still as loud as ever as you yell, “You have to return him by tomorrow, I still need his help. Back by dinner, you hear me?” Seeing the annoyed look Guzma throws at you makes you laugh out loud as you return to the laborious task of cleaning every single inch of your Pokémon and your house.

 

. . .

 

“She’s something else,” Hala’s boisterous voice was slightly grating on Guzma’s ears, but he bore with it. “I can’t decide if she’s just crazy or smarter than us all. You just can’t win with her; she’ll figure out a way that you lose regardless.”

 

He doesn’t really want to respond at all, he didn’t want to see Hala and wanted to stay far away so that he couldn’t hear what the older man had to say. Although he had never criticized Guzma deliberately or with the intention to hurt, the saddened and disappointed expression in his face that never changed since he decided to run away from home. He really hated Melemele.

 

Trying to ignore the sting of melancholy he forces out a low chuckle, “I like to think she’s just crazy, but she’s real interesting for it. Dunno why she decided to take a shine to me though.”

 

Hala sighs, loudly as he did everything, “Well, for whatever reason, I’m glad she did. How are you doing, boy? She treating you alright?”

 

“What’s it to you?” Guzma grumbles, not liking the way that the older man was asking, as if you had somehow picked him off the street like a stray (which was true, but besides the point). “She’s fine.”

 

“I know she’s fine, in fact, she’s always more than fine. I want to ask you if you’re fine,” Hala fights the urge to hug him, knowing it would likely not be appreciated. The chances he had to provide comfort had passed a decade ago when he should’ve given an angry young boy all the comfort he deserved. It was too late now.

 

Guzma shrugs offhandedly, “I’m good, there’s no need to worry about me. Still alive and kickin’ ain’t I?” There is a coldness to his voice when he sees the obvious pity and sorry expression on Hala’s face, he was so tired of being looked down on. He was fine, couldn’t everyone see that? It wasn’t as if he was missing a limb or was paralyzed, he was doing just dandy. But saying that would have led to a conversation he’d rather _never_ have, so he kept his piece and the two walked in awkward silence until they reached Iki Town.

 

The small cluster of houses looked the same as it did in his youth, the laziness and sleepiness of the place also did not change. It seemed that time moved very slowly in this place, there was never a rush to go anywhere or do anything, which made Guzma uncomfortable. Making their way to Hala’s large house, he sees the issue.

 

“You weren’t kiddin’ when you said that there was a hole in the ceiling,” the edges of the said hole was singed into a black and spanned almost a meter and a half wide, “How’re ya gonna fix that thing.”

 

“We’ll probably have to redo the entire roof eventually, but for now I was thinking hammering a few planks of wood over the hole,” Hala gestured to the pile of wood on the side of the house, “I’m going to wait until Hau comes back before starting on that project; until then, to keep the water out this’ll have to do.”

 

“Ya got a ladder?” Guzma has had some experience patching up holes in roofs, living in Po Town for so long made this kind of skill indispensable, “A tarp would also help with keeping the water out, so if ya got one lyin' around…”

 

“We have a ladder, just let me get it,” Hala begins lumbering into the house, voice loud enough to be heard even after he has entered the building, “Huh, that’s not half-bad an idea, I actually think that there's one in the basement somewhere.” The ladder was soon placed on the side of the house, ready for Guzma to climb up.

 

But right before he did, he turned to Hala with a frown marring his face, “Why’d you ask her to help ya with something like this, she do it often?”

 

There is a carefully bland expression on the Kahuna’s visage as he replies, “She’s usually available and isn’t half bad at repairing things. ‘Course, the repair jobs are usually a lot easier than something like this, so she does fine.”

 

“Don’t ask her to do this kind of thing anymore,” his ears were slightly reddened as he voiced his request, “That silly girl will fall off the roof before you can even tell her what she should be doing. If ya ever need a hand, just tell me.”

 

Hala just about shook the ground with his deep-bellied laugh, “I’ll remember that for next time, who knew you would become such a softie for the ex-Champ so quickly? I’m assuming you’ll want me to keep this tidbit to myself.”

 

He watched Guzma stumble on the roof, nearly tipping over the edge and he whips around to glare at a smugly amused Hala who was beginning to hand him a couple of tools for the task. The Kahuna merely raised an eyebrow at his attempt of intimidation, but when Guzma threatens to expand the size of the hole in the ceiling he relents.

 

With nothing but the quiet chatter of people and Pokémon as his companionship, the ex-Team Skull leader worked diligently at the task that allowed him to think about nothing else but the work at hand. Even the ever nosy and loud Hala curbed his typical boisterousness and didn’t hound him anymore on his emotional stability or you. The sun burned brightly overhead, slowly heating the air until it became unbearable for the working Guzma who took his sweater off before he was roasted alive. His sky-high tolerance of heat was replaced by beads of perspiration that dotted his brow and arms that bore the brunt of the work and sun.

 

Methodically placing the planks into their right places and nailing them down firmly with practised ease, the task was finished late in the afternoon when the heat was reaching its most brutal. Climbing down from the roof and running his fingers through his sweaty hair, Guzma felt exhausted and spent even though he should have been used to doing things like this.

 

“You are out of shape, boy,” Hala comments, taking in the way that his figure was hunched over in tiredness and his light panting that hadn’t ceased even after several glasses cool water. “I know you weren’t that strong, but this is just pathetic.”

 

The glare and sarcasm that Guzma sent in the other’s direction was weakened significantly by the fact that he was so exhausted, “Haven’t exactly been able to keep up with my gym schedule, been a bit busy.” He clenched his faintly trembling hands, trying to still the pathetic movements.

 

“Yo!” A cheery voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to see you walking towards where he was standing with that downright evil lizard still perched on your shoulder, “You done?”

 

“Yeah,” he responds, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture, “Just finished up, it wasn’t that bad. You managed to take care of everything?”

 

Your eyes rolled playfully, “Not that they made things easy for me, you would think that they would be willing to lend some help with the cleaning, but they all just got in the way.” Turning to Hala, you grin, “How did he do? Not better than me, right?”

 

The heavy-set man chuckled at your antics, “Sorry to say former Champion, but he’s got you beat. Look at that,” he gestures to the neatly done patch job that Guzma had finished. “Won’t be asking you anymore when we’ve got such a handyman right here.” At this Hala man-handles Guzma into a shoulder hug that is mercifully short.

 

“You act like I wanted to patch up fences,” you replied with a faux-angry expression on your face. “But since the jobs are finished up, we can all go for lunch or something?” You glanced down at your cellphone to see if anyone had answered your summons for an impromptu lunch. When you do this, you don’t notice the panicked expression that Guzma was throwing at Hala who was surprisingly intuitive.

 

Practically screaming a yawn and dramatically stretching, he bellows, “What a tiring day, I’m beat just from passing Guzma planks. He must be exhausted; you just head back and rest up. No need for any lunch.” Embarrassed by this evidently lackluster attempt of diversion, he ducks back into his spacious house and leaves the two of you outside.

 

Noting what Hala had said, you nod, “You do look pretty tired. We can always just make something to eat, no need to go out for something like that. Come on, a shower awaits you and a tall glass of orange juice waits for me.”

 

Even though the sun was glaring and he was bone-tired, Guzma couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face as a result of feeling satisfied. Unused to feeling both accepted and useful, these two emotions swirled pleasantly in his chest as he evaluates his tired body and your presence at his side. But no matter how happy or satisfied he felt, there was always a pending sense of doom that loomed closer and closer, chilling the warmth he felt in his chest.

 

Because he would then remember that he didn’t deserve it, how could he? He was nothing more than a giant screw up,  a disgrace to the population of Alola. Yet when his gaze returned inexplicably to you, he pushed these thoughts away.

 

How could he hold such dark thoughts in the presence of too-bright light?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~! Here is the third installment, things are finally starting to move along in the feelings department. I hope you enjoyed this one...the next chapter is going to be a doozy ;)


	4. Mareanie and Migraines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of Mareanie, migraines, and movies. Except you get too much of one, too little of another, and an unexpected amount of the last one. Now, which is which?

_In Which the Retired Champ wants a Mareanie but..._

 

The morning dawns brightly, promising a day perfect for what you had planned a few weeks ago which had been promptly destroyed by your neighbour, the Island Kahuna. Nevertheless, you were a woman on a mission today, which meant absolutely nothing would stand in the way of your goal: a Mareanie.

 

The past few weeks have been interesting, but uneventful on your end. This was the opposite of true for Guzma, who had been out and about nearly every single day to Iki Town at the request of Hala. The Island Kahuna could be seen picking up your new house tenant every morning, talking and chattering about something new that had to be patched up and fixed all while looking expectantly at Guzma. For all his complaints and dismissive posturing, he never once said no to any of the requests made; shortly he had made somewhat of a name for himself in the small town.

 

The days passed by, all with an almost deliberate routine that started with an obnoxiously early start in the morning filled with exercise and sparring on both trainer’s ends. Promptly after breakfast Hala would appear to drag Guzma away for the better part of the day, until later in the afternoon where you would appear in Iki Town with part of a lunch that you made for yourself. The days of work, sun, and actual food did wonders for Guzma, you weren’t sure if he realized it himself, but he had regained some of the weight he had lost in muscle. While he was still quite slim, his leanness didn’t allude to hunger or suffering, rather a lithe musculature that belied strength and tensed energy. It fit him better than overexertion and exhaustion and gave him a little more bite when it came to fending off your attempts at ticking him off.

 

The evenings were filled with dinners and a few hours of whichever board game came to mind, drifting from classics like Monopoly or newer ones like Sushi Go, both of your naturally competitive spirits made the nights raucous and fun. Even though the townspeople of Iki hadn’t exactly welcomed Guzma with open arms, they appreciated the things that he was doing, at Hala’s insistence, around town. Most didn’t go out of their way to avoid or ignore him, but wouldn’t casually strike up conversation either, which suited him just fine. He had enough conversation with you to fill all of his excess concentration and energy.

 

You hadn’t sat idle while he ‘worked’ and had been scouring Ten Carat Hill and the nearby cave for Pokémon you hadn’t been able to catch, while not exactly successful, you were able to catch a Sableye. Using the same tactic that had brought you your too loyal Salandit was a success, filling yet another blank in your Pokédex.

 

Even though you and Guzma didn’t spend too much time together, you couldn’t help but to feel accustomed to his presence in your house and your lazy evenings together were now indispensable to your routine. Not only have you and Guzma become comfortable, but so have both of your partners that got into more trouble together than ever. Seeing him work on something made you happy, even if you did prefer if he were by your side so you could let out some of your frustration when encounters were going particularly badly.

 

The days became so utterly _normal_ that Guzma began forgetting that this wasn’t his place, somehow your quaint cottage started taking the form of home in his mind. Unconsciously he began equating life with you as what normal life was, and even seeing your obscenely bright smile in the morning brought a mild sense of joy rather than annoyance.

 

Today, however, you had set aside for a trip to the beach and told Hala that Guzma wouldn’t be available as he would be too busy helping you. The white-haired male had no qualms about your pushiness and was more than willing to take a day off the never-ending repair jobs that the Island Kahuna was tossing at him every day.

 

You were a bad fisher, and you always have been. And you just didn’t understand how fishing worked in Alola, so you just avoided it at all costs which made acquiring a Mareanie quite difficult on your part. The expression of utter jealousy when you first saw the entirety of Plumeria’s team was palpable, which made the battle more enjoyable than it should have been.

 

But less amusing was trying to find how to acquire some of these impossible creatures, it was so hard to get information from other people. Most just didn’t care, and those who did usually had limited knowledge on the things you wanted to know about. After dragging a still half-asleep Guzma from his bed and making breakfast for everyone, you say to him, “We’re going to Hau’oli Beach, you’re going to help with fishing.”

 

Grunting around a mouthful of waffle, he agrees but not before reminding you, “Don’t forget your Ride Pager, fishing is way harder when swimming.” Looking at where you stood with a bag slung over your shoulder and a floppy sunhat sitting on your head, he asks, “Wait, we aren’t going swimming, are we?”

 

“I mean, I’m going to have to. Primarina won’t let the chance go and will drag me into the water regardless,” you shake your head in amusement, “Not that I really mind, but I’d rather not ruin perfectly good clothes.”

 

“Yeah, can definitely see that,” he stabs yet another strawberry with a motion that was slightly shaky if you had been paying attention, “Only I don’t got any swim trunks to use, don’t feel like ruining the clothes you got me.”

 

Your lips part slightly, as if only just realizing this fact, “Well that’s no biggie, there’re plenty of places around the city for you to get swimwear, I doubt your water-loving bug is going to let you stay dry.” Ensuring that everything is in place and packed up for the day, you dump your bag and hat near the door before climbing upstairs to change.

 

“What’s with the rush,” he calls out as he brings his dishes to the sink and runs hot, soapy water over them, “You act like the Mareanie are going to run if you’re not there fast enough, which they won’t by the way.”

 

Your voice echoes from your room, “You would think _someone_ would be more excited for their first day off, and that _someone_ would be more appreciative of efforts made to have a fun day.”

 

“Hey, don’t ya turn this one on me,” Guzma replies, drying the few dishes that he had used with deft movements, “Knowing your luck, we’d probably spend more than half the day lookin’ for one of ‘em, never mind having time to _frolic_.”

 

Your hair was pulled into a tight bun at odds with your unrestrained self, which was evident in your reply, “Wow, are you trying to intimidate me? Using such illustrative words to show what you will be doing today?”

 

He scoffs at your reply and swats at your bun in a quick movement, “The only frolicking that I’ll be doin’ is on your grave. That’s how long it’ll take for you to get your Mareanie.” The spit-fire expression in your eyes as you glared at him made him chuckle, you were really too cute.

 

But you turn the situation around when you toss him a sneaky grin, “Keep going at it and the only swimwear you’ll be getting is a speedo, which I won’t be complaining about. I can finally see them legs you seem to love to hide.” The cheeky wink you send him doesn’t help the embarrassment that rises habitually to anything you say that could be interpreted as flirting.

 

Guzma doesn’t know what to do about it really, he can’t seem to tell if your quips about him hinted at attraction or just your good-natured teasing. He’s never had trouble of this nature before, people never flocked to him but his interests were rarely rebuffed, if at all if it was going to be a one-time thing. He knew that he was attractive, there was no secret there, but he could never read if _you_ were attracted to him.

 

Because he was attracted to you, and in a way that he had never been before with anybody else. He wasn’t even sure that he was always attracted to you, in all honesty, there was a part of him that just wanted to bask in your company and presence that made his heart lighter than it should be. But then there are the moments, when you lean in a bit too close during your bantering or when you give him a hug in a fit of excitement that he feels the overwhelming urge to have a taste.

 

What would you taste like?

 

But those are questions for another time, and you were beginning to grow concerned by the fact that he had yet to respond to your gibe only to see him waggle his eyebrows exaggeratedly, “Didn’t know you were so curious about my body, just say the word sweetcheeks, and it’s yours.”

 

Seeing such a blatant display causes you to pretend to gag as you put the sunhat back on and gesture to the door, “If you are quite done, let’s head out. The day awaits.” And with a too bright smile acting as his guide, he follows you onto the beaten path of Route 1 towards the biggest city on Melemele.

 

. . .

 

The sun is brutal like it always is, burning off whatever cool air that hung about during the night, but you remain undeterred and focused as you hike with Guzma at your side. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, discreetly watching Espeon clamour into his arms to be held seeing the place in your arms was being taken by a Pichu that you had caught recently.

 

The yellow mouse was like sticky tack and had been glued to you ever since you befriended him, to the consternation of another one of your passengers, your Salandit. Most of your partners had elected to stay home with Guzma’s, the pack had become quite close and you would now be hard-pressed to separate some of the friendships created. You didn’t mind it, seeing them have fun together and growing stronger (it wouldn’t be yours or Guzma’s partners if they didn’t roughhouse each other) every day.

 

Taking another look to your side, you note the way that the sea breeze was tousling the long white strands of Guzma’s impeccably bleached white hair. In your mind, his hair was a wonder to you, it made little sense how such bleached hair had any right to look so fluffy and soft, it was almost too good to be true and you had resisted multiple times not to try for yourself. You wondered if it was just genetics or some sort of secret hair routine that kept what should be deadened strands into cotton candy like fluff.

 

Walking closer to the ‘boss’ you bump into him purposefully with your arms still holding onto the electric mouse, “He’s taken quite the shine to you, who would’ve thought?” You glance at the lethargic way that Espeon was waving his tail and the way his eyes were scrunched up in happiness as Guzma held him.

 

“Not everyone is as stubborn as your Snorlax, I swear that bear just wants to kill me half the time I’m in his presence,” Guzma rolls his shoulder slightly, muscles still sore from the intensive day he had installing a new window. “You’ve gotta have the Pokémon with the biggest attitudes. What do ya give ‘em?”

 

“I don’t like it when pots call kettles black,” you remind him with a smirk, eyes tilting to meet his in a sweltering moment, “You have the hearts of all your partners in the palm of your hand, they adore you.”

 

“They’re just about the only living things in all of Alola who’d be stupid enough to,” the sardonic words slip out before he could stop them, proof of his lack of caution when talking to you. He’s almost afraid to look at you, wondering if your face would be filled with disgust or pity, he decided that whatever you had to say was better than actually seeing that in your eyes.

 

But to his surprise, the bright notes of your laughter is your answer to his negativity; he turns to see an expression of good-humour decorating your features save for your eyes, they said something different. “You think Alola’s short of idiots? I know plenty who fall into the ‘stupid enough’ category.”

 

Moving closer to him and peering up at him with an impossibly soft smile, you say, “Don’t sell yourself short or think too high of people’s intelligence.” Clapping him on the back with too much force you demand, “Now stop being such a downer, there are _a lot_ of people who care.”

 

An impish glint enters your gaze as you slowly point to yourself, “Including me.” But right after you say your piece you dart away, laughing and giggling while your little Pokémon hung on for dear life. Your heart was beating a bit too quickly in your chest, and not at all from the laughter, something was shifting, and you weren’t so obtuse not to understand what it might be.

 

A sudden chill sweeps through your body as the reminder usually does; there is pitifully little that you can do to help him, you were just providing him distractions from the things he was still too scared to face head on. You knew this, but you weren’t sure if Guzma knew this.

 

He was still stalling, putting his problems on hold and living life as if they weren’t impending things that would eventually need tending, and it seemed he was content this way. But you knew he wasn’t truly happy, there were numerous problems that he had to solve before he could be and these were problems you had no idea how to help him with. Even though he had never thrown a tantrum or had any actually violent outbursts since that first day, you knew it was only a matter of time before something set him off.

 

Guzma was holding things in like he usually did, he didn’t want you to see him at his lowest, at mercy of his basest instincts so he was always careful to avoid things that would raise his ire. He avoided people and maintained a wide berth from Kukui whenever the professor decided to drop by, this you could all see. But seeing the guarded expressions on nearly everyone who looked him in the eyes was creating something within him, something destructive that was being held by nothing more than his willpower.

 

. . .

 

The beach isn’t exactly crowded but not even close to empty, the air was filled with chatter and the shrieks and giggles of children, perfect for you. Less perfect for Guzma, but he can just deal with it. Without you even twitching a finger in his Pokéball’s direction Primarina had burst out in all his blue-eyed white-lashed glory and trilling out a sound that attracted virtually every single pair of eyes on you.

 

The over-excited soloist Pokémon was practically bowling you over as you tried to get out of your shorts and t-shirt you had thrown over your plain black swimsuit while you tried to shove his eager face away. The sunhat was now tilted precariously on your plaited hair, a slight breeze or another exuberant nudge away from toppling it over and onto the sand where it lay now a few seconds later. Guzma couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face as he watched you kick sand at your Primarina who paid little mind to the action, too eager to drag you into the water.

 

When you turned around to face him, luminous with happiness and outlined by the sparkling water, he felt his chest tighten with an emotion that was rival to his most brutal anger in strength. Your slim body was silhouetted by the glaring sunlight, and even though it revealed little, the sight of your toned legs sent his brain places that would have earned him a punch from you. After watching you dash back to where he stood and digging through your bag, he raised an eyebrow at the wad of cash shoved into his hands as you rush out, “Go get yourself some trunks, that one,” here you gestured to Golisopod who had been pacing about in anticipation, “Seems a bit impatient for some _frolicking_.” And in the next moment you had dived back into the sun-warmed ocean with a loud whoop that made you seem years younger than you were.

 

Glancing at his beloved isopod Pokémon who chittered slightly, as if amused by your antics instead of annoyed, which is what Guzma felt. Right? The moment that he had arrived in such a bustling city, you had dumped him in favour of the ocean, leaving him to fend for himself in the midst of stares and whispers. He doubted you did it on purpose, in fact, the amount of faith you had in him not to screw up royally was almost a little heartening but didn’t exactly soothe his nerves. The cool air of the mall buffeted his heated skin, drying the thin sheen of perspiration dotting his arms and forehead; he headed over to the store that he had visited a number of times in his youth.

 

The store was as haughty as ever, but the workers were pleasant enough and didn’t even bat an eye at his obvious casual wear likely wary of the giant Golisopod that loomed intimidatingly behind him. Grabbing a pair of plain black trunks in his size, he heads straight for the checkout with the intention of leaving as soon as possible, the scrutiny of the other patrons and faint childhood memories were making his stomach knot. The store looked too similar, even the changeroom in the corner was the same one he had darted in to hide from his father a decade and a half ago; the memory chilled his heart and made him sweep his gaze around.

 

Hurriedly grabbing the understated but nonetheless luxurious bag from a politely smiling employee, he ducks out of the store near run and wanting nothing more than the warm sea breeze instead of the air-conditioned alternative. In his frantic exit he doesn’t take notice of his surroundings and just walks forward while everyone dodges out of his way, leery of his intimidating size and dangerous scowl. However, this causes him to run into the one person that taught him his scowl and the one person Guzma would have been glad to never see again.

 

His father.

 

He feels dread coiling like a heavy serpent in his stomach, twisting and squeezing making it difficult to breathe and look the now shorter man in the eye. Golisopod is chirping, alarm clear in the sounds he’s making and seeing the lack of reaction from his Trainer, it becomes more and more panicked. Guzma can’t think, he doesn’t know what to do; it’s too late to keep walking and he is _not_ going to run away from this man again, his father doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

 

“Father,” his voice comes out cooler and more collected than he thought it would be, and this allows him to regain himself slightly for whatever came next because there was always something that came next.

 

The now naturally white-haired man stared at Guzma as if trying to place him into the young adolescent that he had last seen ten years ago. When the realization clicks, so does the icy fury that frosts over his features in no more than a heartbeat, “Boy.”

 

The derision in the single word makes Guzma’s spine stiffen, rage hotter than he had ever yet experienced exploded within him and it took everything he had to remain still as he spat, “I am no one’s boy, least of all to _you_.” A crowd was beginning to gather, morbidly curious gazes fixating upon the confrontation.

 

“You act as if I want you to be my boy,” his father snarls, face contorted in rage, “You are nothing more than an ungrateful bastard, a petty thief and a danger to society.” His eyes focus on the bag that Guzma was holding in his hand and a cruel light shines in his narrowed gaze, “How’d you get the money to shop in the mall, hm? I doubt you came by it in honest means, tell me _Guzma_. Where’d you get the money from?”

 

His father’s barbed words should have angered him to the point of attacking, uncaring of the audience or repercussions, but instead they remind him of you. You with your unbelievably unwavering faith and radiant warmth that gave him the courage to turn away; you were waiting for him, without judgement and expectations. He would return to beach, forget about everything that happened and everything would be okay.

 

But as soon as he began to turn his father clamps a strong arm onto his shoulder, squeezing to the point of pain as he grounds out, “You’ll answer my questions, _boy_. You only leave when I say it’s okay to leave.” It is at these words that red fills Guzma’s vision and he doesn’t remember who threw the first punch.

 

. . .

 

The water was delightfully cool against your ever-heated skin as you floated peacefully at the surface while Primarina dived about in the depths playing with whatever lurked below the surface. So distracted where you that you don’t notice that Espeon has been calling out to you until he sends a giant ball of water into your face using Psychic leaving you confused and spluttering.

 

Climbing out of the water and onto the shore where your clearly concerned partner was pacing, tail whipping about in frantic movements that spurred your own actions. Not bothering with a towel and running towards the crowd you could see in the middle of the street, your heart jumps to your throat as you brace yourself for the worst.

 

Shoving your way through the now semi-dense crowd, you arrive to see Guzma whirl around with so much icy hate that it scares you, only to see an older but evidently stronger man moves faster than a viper and backhands him so hard that you can see a bit of blood beginning to trickle out of his mouth.

 

You got there too late, Guzma was lunging at him, fists curled in preparation for a brawl. The first is able to reach his father’s stomach but the second is caught by an iron fist and soon it’s Guzma that’s hunched in pain and seeing stars. But just as he was about to just lay there and let it happen, a now overly familiar voice rings deafeningly loud.

 

“Leave,” your constantly smiling countenance was nowhere to be seen, a deadliness had infused with your very being, gaze razor sharp as you stared at the circle of spectators. “ _Now_.” A familiar sight to most who stood in the crowd, your drastic change in attitude is enough to scare off everyone and you turn to the one individual left.

 

There is clear scorn in his face as he looks at you, still dripping wet from the ocean and looking like nothing more than a young girl who was biting off more than she could chew, “Girlie, I don’t know who you are, but you’re protecting the wrong person. He’s nothing more than scum.”

 

The laugh that emerges from your lips is nothing short of absolute disgust, “That says a lot more about you than him, doesn’t it?” And just as he was about to respond, you look at him with so much dangerous calm that it actually causes him to take a step back, “I am not going to say it again. _Leave_.” And with one last look of contempt sent your way, he leaves rubbing the area that Guzma had been able to land a punch.

 

Reaching down to help the downed male up, you don’t expect to feel him slapping your hand harshly away, “Leave me alone.” There is anger, pain, but most of all fear that vie for control as he struggles to push himself to his feet only to crumble back onto the asphalt road.

 

“Come on, Guzma,” you try to coax, eyebrows creasing in worry, “Let’s go home, I can take a look at that lip of yours.” You try to offer him a hand again only to hear him scream in frustration and throw his curled-up hands at the ground.

 

“What home?! That’s _your_ home, it ain’t mine and it never will be,” his face finally lifts to meet yours as he snaps, a wild look in his storming gray eyes, “Face it, I’ll never be what you want me to be, I’m never what anyone wants me to be. I’m that hopeless.” He launches another fist at the ground, splitting his skin and bruising his hands as he stares at you, face twisting as if unable to decide what emotion to portray.

 

You open your mouth to speak only to be cut off by an outburst by Guzma who’s bloodied hands were tearing into his hair, pulling the strands in uncontrolled rage, “Just shut _up_! Shut up! Don’t tell me I’m better, I don’t need someone so _disgustingly_ perfect to tell—”

 

He doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say because you had lunged at him, knocking him to the ground as your arms winded themselves around his still too thin torso, wet body pressed tightly against his. He was so shocked by the embrace that he momentarily forgets what exactly what was happening as his nose was flooded by your smell of sunshine mixed now with the sea. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t want your comfort, what was there to comfort?

 

But the feeling of your now warming body against his reminds him of what it was like to feel like someone actually cared, that there was no place they would rather be than here with him. Unconsciously he buried his face into your still-damp hair, wondering why he was so hopeless, and why it hurt so much hearing the words he knew were true anyway. Most of all he wondered why knowing you were hurt cracked his already fragile heart even more.

 

You lay in silence, pretending that warm droplets twisting through your hair were sun-warmed sea water.

 

. . .

 

The walk back is silent, both your Saladit and Pichu had no choice but to walk themselves, your arms currently occupied with supporting a dangerously teetering Guzma. Although he tried to convince you didn’t need the help, watching him sway as soon as you let him go killed that option and even his loyal Golisopod had chirped at him in admonishment when he tried to pull away from you. The dishevelled male sent him a weak glare and low whisper, “Traitor.”

 

Hearing this, you fought the urge to bonk his forehead knowing that it would likely not be appreciated, so you hold your tongue and your worry inside. Even though he was noticeably heavier than your first encounter, it still seemed a way off from his time during the Aether debacle where you had trouble trying to lift him off the ground. Sighting the shadow of your home in the late afternoon sun, your pace quickens automatically when the familiar herd of Pokémon emerge from the structure and race towards where you were walking with Guzma.

 

But when they see the condition of the previously feared Team Skull leader, the excitement fades into a silent worry, an underused emotion in your household, as Kommo-o opens the door as you walk into your living room. Lifting his arm from over your shoulders, you place him onto your quaint couch with a stare that told him to stay there with no small amount of your own brand of ferociousness.

 

After so long, Guzma finally allows himself to take a deep breath and slowly relax his too-tense muscles, his shoulders and neck slowly releasing the tightly coiled energy. The only drawback to this is the sweeping pain that begins radiating from his hands and head, throbbing hotly beneath his skin and making him want to tense himself again if only to distract himself. But taking up more of his concentration is keeping his mind carefully blank of what had occurred in Hau’oli, he wasn’t ready to think about anything because he knew that the emotions that was stewing would explode in the ugliest way possible.

 

He is startled out of his brooding by your quick steps that turns his gaze to see arms carrying an oversized first-aid kit that was comically large compared to your slight frame. Your face was alighted with a smile that scrutiny would easily show to be nothing more than skin deep, but you hold it in place as you bring out disinfectant for his hands.

 

Passing him a warm cloth for him to wipe away the dried blood and visible grit that lay in his hands, you watched with an eerie lack of expression as he gingerly presses the fabric onto his raw knuckles. For some reason, your eyes are so carefully blank that Guzma feels the urge to break the awful atmosphere that surrounded your usually ever-smiling self. After wiping away what he could manage of his hands, he mutters lowly, “Sorry you had to see that.”

 

Your eyes narrowed at him, annoyed that he had said something that clearly defined a line in your ‘acquaintance-ship’; you kept your lips closed not knowing what you were supposed to say. You didn’t know how things went down, but from your weeks of living together you believed that he wasn’t inherently violent, he didn’t have the bloodlust required for something like that. So the question was eating at you, _why_? Why did he—? You resolved not to think about it, there was no use of you trying to guess what had occurred, it was best for you to hear it from the person in question.

 

You stick a hand out for him to place his in, still not saying a single word and remaining too silent, which finally pushes Guzma to ask without sparing any venom, “Did that scare ya sweetcheeks? I never said that I was rainbows and sunshine.” You don’t dignify this with an answer and simply wet a cotton pad with witch hazel before crushing it to his knuckles without a word of warning.

 

“Ow, oh shi-i- _ow_ ,” the burn is intense and you are not helping as you snatch his other hand and treating it with only slightly more care, still annoyed at his blatant disregard for himself. “Okay, _okay_. I get it, if you keep at this, I’d rather let myself just bleed out.”

 

“…idiot,” your smile falls off your face, replaced with a look of worry tinged with sadness that made his chest feel heavy. The only thing that he can think is that you shouldn’t be wearing such an expression, least of all for him.

 

Taking his right hand and blowing gently on the open scrapes, your eyes lift to meet his, “You are not okay, you’ve never been okay this entire time.” You return your gaze to his hand that was suitably disinfected as you dab another towel over the angry red, your hands as warm as they always were, gently moving across his.

 

“Yeah well. It depends on how you define okay,” his voice is low, and his attempt at humour is killed by the fact that there is nothing but emptiness present in his face. He looks down at the way you were curled around his battered hands, movements slow and kind, unlike your usual behaviour.

 

After fastening the bandages onto his hands, wrapping them with a layer of cotton pads and gauze, you lean in close to his face. There is a bruise forming on his cheek, and his lip was still clearly suffering from a cut, your voice was quiet, “I care, you know. I don’t know what you’re thinking I’m doing, but to set the record straight; I am doing this because I care about you.”

 

Even though the revelation isn’t exactly earth-shattering given your actions these past few hours, it still surprises him and for some reason, he believes you. You weren’t one to beat around the bush either, there was no need for you to say things you didn’t mean, which prompts him to chuckle, “Yeah, even though that makes you, and not me, the idiot.”

 

The somber mood as lightened slightly, and you latch onto it and begin using the towel to dab slowly at his lip, as a flicker of playfulness steals over your eyes, “You don’t get to call me an idiot when you yourself are an idiot. Must I say my piece about pots and kettles once more.”

 

“Ugh, ya need to find a new way to say that,” Guzma rolls his eyes, “Or better yet, just don’t bother and just accept that I’m still going to say what I want.”

 

Silence enveloped the both of you once more as you focused on patching up his split lip, the ugly bruise on his face in your periphery and making you stifle a cringe every time you saw it. Instead, your gaze goes to the storming gray eyes that have become so cloudy, so unlike the sharpened concentration or open amusement that you preferred infinitely to this. You almost couldn’t understand yourself, why did the clearness of his eyes matter so much to you?

 

Leaning back so that you could survey your handiwork, you nod, “That should do it, if your head starts bothering you, tell me. We might need to get it looked at, and painkillers are in the washroom if you need them.” After returning your kit, you go to the kitchen to dig up the box of cocoa powder that you had purchased a while ago in honor of your housemate’s preferences and begin boiling some milk. You needed some time away to school your features into something that wasn’t open concern or anything that could be seen as pity, the last thing that Guzma needed was pity.

 

The mugs were warm against your hands as you place them down in front of him; you plop yourself next to him having devised your own plan for the evening. When he glanced at you, he was relieved to see the earlier conglomeration of sadness, worry and frustration were replaced with a faint yet genuine smile.

 

When reaching for a cup of the Tapu Cocoa, there was an expression of unease on his face, and without glancing at you he speaks, “I guess I owe an explanation now, don’t I.” He’s dreading it, there are no other words to describe the feeling of queasiness that settles in his stomach as he considered telling you _the_ story. The shameful roots of his being, ones that he had tried to cover with tattoos and an anger that raged stronger than the pain.

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” your response is so surprising that his gaze is immediately on you, confusion clear on his face, “And besides, I’m tired and hungry. If there’s anything you want to tell me, you can tell me tomorrow but not today. Today has had enough excitement.”

 

You were giving him an out, and if not that, time to prepare and to let what happened today to be something he could explain without breaking down like he felt like he was on the edge of doing right now. Guzma wonders if you understood the weight of your actions, but judging by the way you had skipped to the kitchen you didn’t put that much thought about it. A quiet joy shines like a beacon in the darkness that swam within his mind, you had made no secret of your indifference of people’s stories and struggles. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, maybe you would know what to do.

 

You always seemed to know what to do.

 

. . .

 

After dinner with little to no dialogue, you suggest, “Let’s watch a movie.” Guzma blinked at you, a little baffled by your suggestion as you continue, “My brain is too fried to try to play any board game, Go Fish included. Let’s just find a film to watch instead, I’ve got popcorn somewhere in this house.”

 

He wasn’t about to disagree, simply because he didn’t feel like making conversation either nor did he want to sit alone to fall prey to his own thoughts which meant your suggestion was near perfect. “Sure, whaddya wanna watch? No chick flicks please, I’ll fall asleep before the introductions are over.”

 

Your Pichu had bounced his way to where you were washing up the dishes, his black-tipped ears twitching as he watched the bubbles pop in the air. You could faintly make out the hunched figure of your housemate, curled in on himself as if fearful of what might come for him even here, in your house. Wanting to take his mind of his own demons, you decide to take one for the team and, you can’t believe you were even saying this, “Let’s watch a horror. That should satisfy your need to protect your masculinity.”

 

He lets out a dry laugh at your half-hearted jibe, “Yeah, that’ll do. Horror it is, the characters always remind me of my obviously superior intelligence.” Guzma’s eyes flicked to where you were leaving the dishes for Kommo-o to dry, rummaging through the cupboards for the popcorn you claimed to have.

 

“Aha!” Your glee was obvious, shining as you proudly waved the small brown package in the air, “Knew I still had some, go to the living room and pick a movie out. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” The scent of warm buttery popcorn begins to swim through the entire house while you dump the warm kernels into a large bowl before walking to the sofa where Guzma was still flicking through the options.

 

Placing the bowl into his lap, you run to your room to find a throw blanket for the impromptu movie night. It takes a while for you to dig through your drawers for it, when you usually watched movies (alone) you just grabbed your bed’s blanket and made do with that. This course of action couldn’t be pursued tonight, which meant some effort on your part to locate the stubbornly hiding scrap of fabric. By the time that you had returned, he had made a choice already and watching the customary minute of logos flash across the screen.

 

“You started without me?” there was a near audible frown to your voice, as if you felt truly betrayed by his decision, “I don’t even know what the movie’s about.”

 

The darkened living room made it difficult to see exactly what his expression was, but you could see his smile in the darkness as he teased, “Well that’ll be even better for you, more anticipation equals more scares.” He says this under the assumption you had no issues with horror movies, which was a reasonable guess considering it was _your_ chosen genre.

 

Except you hated horror movies, the jump-scares, blood and gore were _not_ your type of thing and made your skin scrawl with fear and disgust. You deeply regretted your suggestion, it was made spontaneously to distract him from his own fear, but now your vulnerability was going to be clearly displayed. It was too late to cry over spilled milk now; you’d just have to grit your teeth through it.

 

The first scene was bathed in blood liberally and already your goosebumps were prickling on your arms as you shifted closer to Guzma’s large frame under the pretense of more popcorn. Ugh, this was such a _bad_ idea, where had your common sense gone? Clearly out the window when it came to him; you let out a quiet shriek at the sudden slam of a ghostly door in the movie, making you glance over at him to see if he heard. _So embarrassing_. Your cheeks were flushed red that you hoped was invisible in the low light.

 

Guzma heard it, he also felt the way you had flinched in his direction, clearly scared of a silly movie, but from the way you were reacting it clearly wasn’t so simple for you. It was mildly, or rather incredibly, endearing how you tried to remain silent so as not to distract him, not knowing he was already distracted. A rare moment of intuition allowed him to realize that your suggestion for horror was likely for his benefit, both to let him watch something that he could relax and also put yourself at a disadvantage.

 

He supposed it was your stubborn way of saying that you weren’t perfect, and far from it. The thought softens some of the harsher contours of his heart and allows him to mutter, “C’mere scaredy-cat.”

 

The pointed look you sent at him to tell him that his offer was unneeded was undercut by the tinge of fear that smoothed whatever harshness your expression might have held. Guzma couldn’t have stopped the smile if he tried, forgetting mostly about his earlier worries as he offers a hand in your direction. His smile widens when he feels your warm palm slide into his and he jerks you in a lightning-fast motion to his side, chuckling at the surprised squeak that resulted from you.

 

Your face became even redder, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the screen currently had inordinate amounts of shrieking coming from it, you would be resolutely staring in that direction instead. But you were looking at Guzma, whose eyes had much of their previous shadows and flashing lighty in amusement and something more you couldn’t exactly place. For once you were the one tongue-tied with your heart hammering too quickly in your chest, eyes wide with shock and awareness of the way your other hand was pressing against his torso.

 

Just as you were about to pull away, a particularly gruesome wail emerges from the screen and you, in your to date most vulnerable state, hide your face into the closest thing in reach. In this case, it happens to be the one and only Guzma’s arms that automatically enclose your figure, all the while wondering what the world has come to. Your slender frame was radiating its usual warmth but that probably had little to do with the heat that replaced his blood, your face was still buried in his chest. The heat of your quick breaths felt like they were being seared into his skin.

 

When you venture to take a peek, fearful of both the TV and the reaction from Guzma you were surprised to see that the film was paused and that he was waiting for you to come out of hiding. You were flushed with embarrassment as you mumble quietly, “Don’t make fun of me. Promise you won’t tell anyone about this.”

 

There’s a tender ache that radiates from his chest as something particularly sweet floods his entire body, “How can I not? Who knew the fearless former champion would be so scared of horror flicks, and bad ones too at that?” When he sees your teeth catch your lower lip, biting down in an action that denoted not seduction but frustration, he relents because his mind doesn’t want to stop thinking about what it would be like for _his_ teeth to do that.

 

“Scout’s honor, ya won’t get so much as a peep outta me,” Guzma sticks a hand over his heart, clearly in mock seriousness but you take it anyway with a slight grin and a gentle nudge of acceptance.

 

Grabbing the remote and flicking a few times to play some generic action film, you blink at him in confusion, still not completely back to yourself, “Wait what are you doing?”

 

There’s a boyishly charming smirk on his face as he glances down at you still very much in his embrace, “What does it look like I’m doing? Can’t have ya screamin’ bloody murder in ya own house, can we?” He fights the urge to ruffle your hair, the action likely would not be appreciated, when you puff with exaggerated annoyance nose wrinkling cutely at him.

 

“Yeah, yeah you just keep milking that,” the movie’s intro had finished, and the plot had begun, making you quiet down and focus on the screen rather than the person that was making you feel funny things. You thought about moving out of the much too intimate position but ended up staying because Guzma seemed not to mind, but mostly it was because you found it strangely familiar and comforting.

 

He, on the other hand, was having an existential crisis, your head rested lightly against his chest and your body was curled gently against his side as your distinct scent entered his nose once again. This is bad, this was _weird_. What was going on with him? Why was he thinking about this so much? You were friends and friends watched movies together, he shouldn’t read too much into it; disappointment always hurt more than ignorance. Besides, he wasn’t about to delude himself into thinking that he would have even a snowball’s chance in hell—no.

 

A chill enters his body, making Guzma’s mind freeze as he realizes where his thoughts were heading towards when it came to the small figure still encased in his arms, eyes glued to the bright colours flashing on the television. But the engrossed expression on your face distracts him from his thoughts and the impossible warmth that emanated from you drove away the chill anyway. It didn’t really matter what happened, for now, he resolved to just relax for tonight without regard to anything else, no more errant thoughts.

 

He knew that this was only a brief reprieve from the things he faced, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. And as the night lengthened, with movie after movie until neither of you could keep your eyes open there was no more energy expended to thought. Drifting off in the middle of the night, you woke up with a crick in your neck and a lean arm curled around your waist that anchored you to a still asleep Guzma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now if that wasn't a rollercoaster, I'll eat my shoe! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it. Also, I like to think of this as the end of Part 1 of 2 of this story.


	5. Doom and Goom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzma spills the beans, but the journey to said bean-spillage is long and arduous and involves a kid with a hopefully sprained ankle as well as a Goomy.

_ In Which the Retired Champ is All Doom and Goom _

 

You had woken up first, the uncomfortable position on the couch being the reason for your pre-dawn awakening which was shown through the ache in your shoulders and neck. While you tried to orient yourself, still confused as to why you weren’t in bed but sleeping on the couch, an arm that was wound around your waist prevented the movement. You looked up to see the quietly slumbering face of Guzma to feel your heart splutter in your chest, you fought the urge to pinch his cheek.

 

He had no business looking so adorable, was the first thought that ran through your mind; his fluffy hair was hanging over his eyes and his lips were upturned into a small smile that softened his entire face. You realized you were practically on top of him on the couch, being that there wasn’t that much space to begin with, and this causes a flush to appear on your cheeks. The hold that he had on you was surprisingly firm, pressing you intimately against his larger frame with your head tucked into his chest.

 

Yeah, this was getting a bit embarrassing, but you couldn’t deny that you felt happy and surprisingly comfortable in his embrace, not that you would admit it to him. So deciding not to wake him up, you close your eyes with the intention of going back to sleep considering the late hour that you fell asleep at last night.

 

. . .

 

Guzma wakes up with a start, it was already light out with warm rays beaming onto the couch that he was lying on with you still in his arms. His heart rate spiked when he saw how close you two were, it wasn’t the embrace of a friend at this point judging by the way that your legs were tangled with his. Oh God, this was bad, he could feel the embarrassment and something much more intimidating flooding his entire system, your lips were parted slightly as you slumbered, completely unaware of the danger you were in.

 

What was he going to do when you woke up? Play it off like it was an accident? Stutter and panic like the way he was feeling like doing now? How would you react? Would you be shy? Or maybe you would kiss him like the way he was thinking about kissing you now.

 

But that thought dumps a bucket of cold water over his head, what was he thinking? Why did he—? He doesn’t want to think about why this has become an ever more prominent thought in his mind, it would mean something that he wasn’t prepared for; it terrified him.

 

It terrified him more than the reality that he had to face when you woke up; even though you had said that he didn’t need to explain yesterday, he couldn’t _not_ explain it. If he pretended that everything was okay, maybe it would make the pain dull slightly, but it would never take away the fact you saw something so ugly within him.

 

He knew it was ugly, and he’s lived with this twisted ugliness inside for years now. But when he looks at your even now brightly shining presence, he wants to hide it away, keep you untouched by his disgusting self. He wants so badly to pretend that there isn’t this _thing_ inside that makes him lose control of his emotions, his actions, and his words; but he knows there’s no helping it. His mind begins to waver, and suddenly he just wants to leave, he doesn’t want to have to see the expression on your face when he tells you what’s wrong with him. He would rather remember you like this, soft and trusting instead of the coldness that he knew awaited him when he told you about why he was Guzma, the greatest disappointment known to man. He had to get out of here, he can’t stay here.

 

These are the words that propel him to disentangle himself from you, panic lacing his every movement as he shakily looked around for his partners’ Pokéballs all while scanning the house for something he could take to make his escape easier. Snatching a couple of cans soup and some instant noodles, he dashes quietly into his room to take the clothing that you had bought for him.

 

Guilt is wracking his every bone as he does this, his heart sinking lower and lower when he realizes that this was a betrayal. But his guilt is minuscule in comparison to the fear that surges through the fibres of his body, ebbing and growing as each minute passed the possibility of your awakening drawing closer. Just as he rounded the corner and headed to the exit of the house, a very disappointed looking Kommo-o stood in front of the door with her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

 

How could have he forgotten? That ornery dragon was the housekeeper and there was no way she couldn’t have awoken from the noise he had made, so there she was barring the way to safety with a quiet growl. He knew that if she wanted to, she could have the entire house awake in merely a second so he would have to try to convince him to let him go fast.

 

“I’ve got a meetin’ with someone important today,” he tried to be casual, sticking his hand into his hair and ruffling it, “Hala’s waitin’ for me in Iki Town for a job I didn’t do yesterday. Didn’t wanna wake everyone that’s all.”

 

Your Kommo-o was suspicious, something wasn’t right, but she decided to let him just leave; it wasn’t as if he had taken your valuables or anything so you probably wouldn’t be too mad. Stepping aside, she watched as the white-haired male left in a hurry, not even bothering to say goodbye. Kommo-o shrugged; you’d figure it out.

 

. . .

 

You were startlingly alone when you woke up the second time, and it didn’t take long for you to realize exactly what happened, judging solely on the way that Kommo-o was pacing in front of the door. Stretching and trying to work out the kinks in your back, you begin with your day as normally as you possibly could in the hopes that your partners don’t realize that something is wrong.

 

Because something is wrong, no matter how you wanted to spin it, Guzma had run away from not just you, but what you thought could have been considered a home for him. It was strangely quiet and empty even with your seemingly oblivious Pokémon who were trying to ask where their housemates had gone. You only shrugged, not knowing what exactly to say as you doled out the food for all of them, slowly as if not wanting to know for a fact that your life has changed once more. When you get back to the kitchen, you notice that you’ve prepped enough food for two, making you too sad than it should when you put the excess away into the fridge. Breakfast is too silent, and you wondered how you weren’t lonely before.

 

When the chores are done and there was nothing else you could occupy yourself with, you decide to think about it. There were a couple of things that you could do because truly you were quite concerned with what Guzma had done. You were worried about him, what if he went to confront his father again? Whatever could result from that confrontation was unlikely to be anything productive, making you want to go out to look for him.

 

But then you acknowledge the fact that he left, and without even waiting for you to wake up at that after practically hugging you like a teddy-bear last night. You decide not to remember the fact that you were the one that willingly put yourself into that position, and you feel a completely immature wave of annoyance wash through you at that memory. Yesterday was too much, you couldn’t even try to understand all the things that happened, and you doubted Guzma wanted to either.

 

You could understand that he didn’t want to face it right away, hell, you didn’t want to think about the implications of the altercations of him and his father but running away like you had lit a fire beneath him was a little much. You thought you had shown that you weren’t going to push him into telling you things that he didn’t want to, but clearly, he didn’t trust you. This fact sent a sharp pain to your chest, stronger than many of the other pains you had weathered since your arrival at Alola.

 

But forget it, you had reached a conclusion. You weren’t going to go after him, it wasn’t your job to look after him; Guzma was an adult and how he chose to deal with his issues shouldn’t bother you. Besides, you thought that chasing him down would probably more difficult than trying to get a Relicanth so you opted to wait it out. If he wanted to come back, he would; although whether or not you’d chew him for doing that waits to be seen.

 

. . .

 

He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, he supposed that he would have to get off of Melemele, in fact, he decided that he hated the goddamned island that had so many of the people he would happily live without seeing. The list is long, with the inclusion of his family, Kukui, Hala, and the newest addition and one that he couldn’t decide if he wanted to run to or run from you. He groaned, he needed to get off this island.

 

Sneaking onto a ferry wasn’t difficult at all, given that the sleepy mornings made for much more relaxed workers. Before he knew it, he was headed back to the only other island he had felt safe on; Ula’Ula. Although the thought of what he wanted to do there escaped him, he wondered if he was just going to wander around again, the thought sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. He wasn’t sure how he had lived like that, and he questioned if he would be able to live like that after knowing the special brand of sunshine you had brought into his life.

 

He needed to stop thinking about you, but his traitorous mind wouldn’t let him, haunting him with memories old and recent of your sarcastic quips and genuine kindness that you had shown him. Guzma wanted to know what your reaction was when you woke up alone, would you curse his name? Cry? Go after him? He wasn’t sure which one, but those all filled him with guilt that was overshadowed by fear when he entertained the thought that you would just move on, not surprised at his actions whatsoever and not caring he was no longer there. What did he even want?

 

He needed to stop thinking about you.

 

. . .

 

Plumeria hid her surprise well when Guzma came knocking on her door, looking a little tired but altogether much better than the last time she saw him peering into the salon she worked at. At least his hair was back in order, he was dressed normally, and besides the pinched frown on his face, he looked like he was back to normal.

 

Although the frown was a normal thing for him back in Team Skull days, especially near the end, it wasn’t the expression he was usually seen wearing in recent times. The gossip wasn’t bad, but when Team Skull kids are working all over Alola and keeping an eye out for their old boss, it’s hard _not_ to know what he was up to these days. Her yellow eyes glowed with some untold secret as she held the door open for him to come in, “How ya doin’? _Boss_.” The emphasis on that word didn’t escape Guzma who flipped her off.

 

“Just peachy, _big sis_ ,” And at this, the other laughs out loud, shaking her head at the way he tried to hide the fact he was feeling like an ass. “Are ya finally talkin’ to me again?”

 

Rolling her eyes, “Duh, unless somehow during your stay with the Alolan Champion that talking got a new definition. She ain’t here with ya? Thought you two were attached at the hip these days.”

 

Looking at her with surprise in his eyes, he tries very hard not to exclaim, “How’d ya know? I thought it was a low-key thing, it wasn’t as if we go around everywhere in Alola tellin’ people we’re livin’ together.”

 

“Idiot,” she mutters, hitting him lightly on the forehead. “People talk—” But her words are caught when she notices the discolouration of his face, a little hard to see in the darkness of her trailer. “Did she do this?” There is venom, pure venom in the soft way she asked the question; waiting to see how he would respond and who she would have to ‘talk’ to.

 

But to her relief he shakes his head, gaze lowered and voice small as he mumbles, “Ya think she could bring herself to do somethin’ like this? Nah, the old man did it. Should’ve known it was gonna happen if I stayed on Melemele. Got lucky that it happened later than sooner, I had a few weeks of peace.”

 

Her relief was washed away by the anger she felt, “Your cold-blooded snake of a father was there, did this to you? Why didn’t she stop him?” She should’ve known, the tiredness in his gaze and burnt out anger were the symptoms of yet another altercation with his father, but she knew you wouldn’t just stand around and watch Guzma get beat to the ground.

 

“She did,” he grumbled, chagrin obvious in his voice as he rubs the back of his neck with a nervous hand, “Ya should’ve seen her; we thought she was mad ‘bout that Aether mess but nah, if it wasn’t for the fact she wasn’t facing me…yeah. She can be scary.”

 

A tiny smile appears on Plumeria’s lips as he listened to Guzma, “You really grew on her, huh?” But when she notes the early hour and the fact that there had been an underlying sheepishness to every one of his moves she asks, “You didn’t tell her anything and ran, didn’t you.”

 

There is a look of wide-eyed surprise at her words, “What?” His reaction gave everything away and Plumeria could only shake her head in both amusement and disappointment, “Of course you did. That’s why you’re here.”

 

“I don’t need ya to lecture me,” he grumbles, plopping down on a chair and burying his face into his hands, voice muffled as he continues, “I already feel enough like a tool already, you’re makin’ it worse.”

 

“Oh?” There’s a teasing lilt to the pink and yellow-haired woman as she re-evaluates the tiredness that might stem from more than just the conflict he had with his father, “You don’t usually feel _bad_ about leavin’ someone, what’s the deal?”

 

It is then that he looks up with the deadest eyes Plumeria has seen in recent times that she decides that teasing could wait, “Okay, I get it. Let’s go.” Leading the way out of the trailer and towards the small cape nearby, she breathes in the early morning air as Guzma trails after her half-heartedly.

 

“Okay,” Plumeria says, arms crossed over her chest and bracing herself for the outburst she was sure was going to happen, “Tell me what happened.”

 

Guzma wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were trained into the horizon where the sun was just breaching the edge of the water, “Bumped into him coming outta the mall in Hau’oli, he said his usual piece about what he thinks about me.” A small victorious grin is visible on his lips as he recounts, “I turned away first, that pissed him off _real_ good.” Said grin fades as he continues, “Then he grabbed me, things got blurry after that, I’m pretty sure I got a decent hit in but he still got the better end of the bargain.”

 

There is a long silence, and shocked Plumeria asks, “Wait. That’s it?” This was weird, where was the screaming, the hair pulling, the aggressive attacks at inanimate objects that usually came with the recount of a scene with his bastard of a father?

 

He turns his head slightly to glance at her, “Well then ex-Champ stormed the whole thing, told everyone and the old man to leave. They left.” Guzma leaves out what happened later, not wanting to share the moment with anyone; it seemed too private and intimate.

 

“You aren’t…mad?” There’s an incredulous note to her tone that rubs him the wrong way as he looks at the raised eyebrows in his direction, “Are ya okay? You know whatever he says is utter trash, don’t let it get to you. He made the first move?”

 

Pushing his bangs out of his face with a slow movement Guzma explains, “He grabbed my shoulder when I turned around from him,” there is a faintly satisfied grin on Plumeria’s face as she slings an arm across his shoulders and brings him into a side hug.

 

“Damn, wish I coulda seen that go down,” there is a distinctly unimpressed expression on Guzma’s face that makes her backtrack, “Not that throwin’ punches bit, but man he would’ve been so pissed to see that you didn’t care what he wanted to say about you.”

 

There’s a sardonic smile on his face as he shrugs, “Yeah he looked pretty ticked, but didn’t make his words any less disgusting. Why can’t he just pretend I don’t exist, would’ve been much easier for the both of us anyway.”

 

“I think ya know why,” Plumeria mutters, eyebrows furrowed in something akin to her previous ire, “But seriously, why aren’t you mad about it. At least throw a rock, that usually makes you feel a little better ‘bout things.”

 

“I don’t know,” Guzma looks at his hands, still bandaged neatly, “Guess I worked it outta my system already, I’m not that mad about it. It’s just…tiring to hear him say those things. I know it’s all true.” He adds, “In a sense.” When he sees the withering glare that Plumeria is giving him.

 

“Those ugly things he says _isn’t_ true, and you know it,” she grinds out, “I say that to ya every single time, but you never seem to get it. You ain’t perfect, but he sure as hell isn’t either.”

 

She wishes that Guzma would respond in any other way besides shaking his head, once again ignoring her clearly sound and logical argument, but childhood memories run deeper and stronger than even the most convincing of words. Plumeria looks at her friend who is still staring out into the ocean, exhausted and yet still upset at something, or perhaps it was just at everything.

 

“Forget it,” she turns him away from his brooding, “Let’s get somethin’ to eat, I’m guessin’ you didn’t get grub before coming here.”

 

. . .

 

It’s been a week since you had last seen Guzma and judging from the text that Plumeria had sent you the day of his disappearance, you could guess where he might be hanging out. Not that you were particularly worried, at least this is what you’re trying to tell yourself. You tried not to be hurt, but it was hard not to feel a little used when just tossed aside and forgotten about the way that you were. It was bound to happen anyway; you doubted you could talk to him the way that Plumeria could and she clearly had a better idea of what to do in a situation like this.

 

So why did you feel so bitter about it, all of your partners could feel it and no amount of coaxing and nuzzling could make you as chipper as you usually were. You were all moody and gloomy, things that made them more concerned than they ever have been considering the fact that you almost never _not_ smiled.

 

It was a little harder to hide how you were really feeling when Hala had come for his customary visit for Guzma, his usually jovial expression was nowhere to be seen when you told him what had transpired the day before. You didn’t want to ask him about the history there, being that he wouldn’t have told you everything but his dry chuckle when you recounted exactly what you had said to Guzma’s father hinted at where he stood. He didn’t have much advice for you when you questioned if you should just let him be or seek him out, in his experience seeking Guzma out rarely yielded any positive results.

 

However, you were a different person with a different history, albeit short, with Guzma, so it was difficult for him to guess what would be the best course of action. Hala could tell you were pretty concerned, and he wondered if you knew how obvious you were being about your emotions. He supposed that was just who you were; you weren’t good at hiding and concealing, everything you were thinking or feeling was usually on display if not spoken.

 

At the end of the week, you decide that you couldn’t just listlessly go about your tasks anymore. You would find him and tell him that it’s not like he _had_ to tell you his life story, you two could still hang out and be friends because you missed him. A lot, actually. Even if the thought did make your stomach flip-flop awkwardly. Besides, you had to go to Ula’ula anyway, there was a certain dragon Pokémon that had been impossible to catch when you first travelled your way to Po Town nearly a year ago.

 

Deciding not to bring the entire crew, you only brought Primarina’s capsule and the two little ones who still have thus refused to leave your body and walk on their own. Truly, they are stubborn to the point of fury, but they were so cute and sweet that you didn’t mind much. It had been a while since you’d paged a Charizard, and the orange lizard seemed like it missed you at bit judging from the enthusiastic thumping of his tail onto the ground. The flight was leisurely and on the lengthy side, giving you time to debate whether or not you wanted to talk to Plumeria or if you just wanted to go to Route 17 instead, relying on fate to deal with your Guzma problem. Upon realizing that you would have to check both her house and the Malie Salon for her presence, you decided against that course of action.

 

Besides, a mischievous twinkle appeared in your eye as you considered the fact that most of your meetings were prompted by something outside of normal occurrences anyway. You weren’t one to hold on too tightly to the little things, letting life pull you in the directions that it liked and just taking enjoyment from everything you could. But when you were determined about something, there was absolutely nothing that could stand in your way.

 

. . .

 

The beaten down path was as you remembered it, damp with light showers that frequented the parts of Route 17 further from Po Town. The story behind the constant rain had always been quite fascinating to you, wondering why exactly the Tapu would have cursed a place to rain all the time. In your mind, it seemed not like anger that cast the curse, but sadness, a constant deluge of tears that rained upon the now empty and still-cold town. If you could avoid coming to Po Town, you would; simply because it clashed to starkly with your personality to be surrounded by an invisible yet constant anguish.

 

This was one of the reasons why you hadn’t lingered around, the quicker you could get that Yungoos back, the better. So you didn’t even give yourself the chance to find a Goomy, which would have ended up badly anyway since they only showed up doing S.O.S encounters. But with your new knowledge, you were certain that things were going to turn out just fine.

 

When the rain begins to make its appearance, Salandit was not having it and you could feel her go from your shoulder to make her way into your backpack and way from the rain. Pichu, on the other hand, could care less and was actually sparking much more frequently than usual, little pops of electricity bursting in front of you. It seemed so oddly empty, the entire road was devoid of basically anything and eerily silent besides the rainfall. You wondered if Nanu would be in the Station today, or if the Alolan Police had him working elsewhere considering the end of Team Skull.

 

The rain was only coming down harder, so you were thankful that you had brought a raincoat and boots as defense as you began wading through the grass for an encounter with a Pokémon. The Gumshoos that shows up is welcome, but only when you realize that you’ve made a grave mistake. You had forgotten your precious Heracross that knew how to use False Swipe, which meant that the wild Pokémon didn’t even have the chance to squeak before a giant deluge of water had washed it off into the distance.

 

You were so screwed, is what you thought until you realized that your Pichu seemed very excited to try his hand at battling, even though he hadn’t really shown an interest in it before. But then again, he usually spent his time bickering with Salandit, so maybe that was why. And so, this was how you ended up wading through the grass with an over-excited electric mouse who was shocking things left and right with Primarina stepping in when needed.

 

This went on for a few hours before you decided you were hungry; finding a nice tree to lean against you dug into the sandwich that you had packed. It wasn’t until you sat down that you realized that there was a substantial berry pile to your left, shifting once in a while with the movements of the Crabtrawler beneath. Upon finishing your sandwich, you were just about to stand when you see a little purple blob approach the pile with trepidation; said purple blob was none other than the Goomy you’d been looking for. 

 

The small Pokémon had been eyeing the Sitrus Berry, edging closer and closer so she could try to presumably snatch it. Unfortunately, the only thing that was snatched was an antenna that slid out of the annoyed Crabrawler’s unforgiving claw, making Goomy growl in anger. Except the poor little thing was too scared to act out on her frustration and could only begin to retreat with slow movements that denoted a broken heartedness that tugged at your own heart. Digging into your bag, you fish out one of many Sitrus Berries and pass it to Pichu who had been watching the entire scene, the yellow mouse bounds quickly to where the Goomy had been about to disappear into the grass.

 

You send the shy creature a small wave and watch as it begins sliding over to where you were sitting after it had eaten the Sitrus Berry in two quick bites. As is knowing that yet another was about to join on your little party, your Salandit had appeared in the rain and hissed warningly at the incoming Pokémon. You admonish her with a stare and send the purple goo-bubble an encouraging smile, she seems comforted by the gesture and slides hesitantly to where you were sitting. But before you could offer her any more berries or beans, she had taken your entire rainboot covered foot into her mouth and had begun pulling you towards a small outcropping insistently.

 

It doesn’t take too long for you to stand up, although it does take some convincing for the Goomy to let go of your foot, and soon you are following the blob in the direction of the foot of a small cliff. When you arrive at the scene, you aren’t surprised by why the Pokémon had been so demanding of the attention.

 

A small boy was crumpled at the base of the outcropping, with a large line sliding down the cliff, evidence of what should have been a really nasty fall. He seemed to be breathing, but too shallowly for it to be obvious, making you wonder if he had been here like this for much too long. You rush over to the youth’s side, his body nearly covered in mud and too cold to the touch; this prompts you to take your jacket off to cover him from the still pouring rain.

 

“Hey!” You shake his shoulder, hoping that he was still conscious, “Can you hear me? Are you awake?” The shaky groan is a good sign, even if it sounded absolutely terrible, you begin trying to turn over the boy when yet _another_ Goomy appears from the arms of the fallen boy.

 

The angry blob was about to attack you before being jettisoned by water from the other Goomy and shocked by your own Pichu. You are a bit too concerned about the boy to check out whether or not Goomy #2 had been able to deflect the attacks, but seeing no wounds your heart settles a little.

 

But as you were about to pick the kid up, you could hear a faint voice whisper, “My ankle,” he whimpered, pain present clearly in his small voice, “I think it’s broken.”

 

You immediately look to the seemingly fine appendage, but when you see the angry red and blooming bruises of the swelling area, you immediately ask, “Can you move it? Even a tiny bit?” And seeing the slow but decent range of movement allows you to let out a breath, “I don’t think it’s broken; it’s probably just sprained.”

 

As you tried to help the weak boy up, you ask, “Can you tell me your name, and someone I can call?” You reach into your pocket for your cellphone and pass it to him, “Your parents maybe? They must be so worried about you.” But the response to this was your cellphone to go flying at the muddy cliff, denting obviously against a rock and falling to the ground. You stare at it, wondering what exactly to say to this only to hear the boy burst into sobs.

 

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was shaking, “I’m _so_ sorry, please don’t call my parents, please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I really didn’t mean it, I’m sorry—”

 

Cutting off what would have likely been another stream of apologies, you smile crookedly at him, “Hey, at least I know that wrist of yours isn’t sprained.” You wink at him, eyes twinkling with amusement as you continue, “Don’t worry about it, you can pay me off some other way. But for now, let’s find somewhere dry to stay for now. I’m soaked and you’ve been soaked and I don’t want you to get hypothermia on top of that sprained ankle.”

 

The kid nods, mute in shock at your lack of annoyance and unbelievable good humour at this situation. What he doesn’t know is that you’re already thinking of ways that this kid will be paying you back, in _double_ ; just because you were nice didn’t mean you weren’t practical.

 

. . .

 

The rundown Pokémon Centre was barely operational, just like you remembered it. There’re two kids hanging out inside who jump at your presence, hands reaching to Pokéballs clipped at their waists. But the sight of two Goomys, a Pichu, and a Salandit all ready to attack was so silly that they just burst into laughter instead, “Yo man, you runnin’ a daycare or what?”

 

You roll your eyes, “Not exactly,” you set the boy down on a stacked box, “Do you have any clothes for him? He’s been lying in the rain for God knows how long and he’s got a sprained ankle. Not sure why he was out in the rain but staying in wet clothes is going to give him hypothermia.”

 

The pink-haired girl rummages around behind the desk, digging through a couple of boxes before finding two sets of their uniform, “Only got these, don’t exactly have much else lyin’ around. Even though the boss came back to visit, he hasn’t told us to do anything, so we’ve got nothin’ else.”

 

You try not to react to the given information, slowly digesting it and grabbing the clothes from the outstretched hand, “Thanks, beggars can’t be choosers, can we?” You glance over at the sniffling and shivering boy, “Quickly change out of those clothes…Your name was?”

 

The brown-haired youth tilted his head before sending you a watery smile, “Phillip, but my parents called me Pip.” His gaze tilted down again, hands wrinkling the fabric of your jacket, “I’d like it if you called me Pip.”

 

A sunny smile at odds with the weather appeared on your lips as you helped him down out of the perch you set him on and leading him to a washroom, “Alrighty, Pip it is. You need a hand with changing, or are you okay?”

 

He ducks into the room, limping but not without a shrug, “I’ll just take it slow, not exactly in a rush or anything. I’ll call if I need help.” You decide to do the same and change into the customary Team Skull outfit, sans shorts and instead with sweats to ward off the chill that had settled in by walking slowly in the rain.

 

Your hair was hanging loosely about, very different from the way you usually kept it up but you wanted it to dry as much as possible before you had to leave again, Pip in tow, to an actual Centre. But seeing the way the poor kid was drooping with exhaustion, you decided not to make him trudge through the rain again and ask the two ‘Team Skull’ members if they had somewhere for him to sleep.

 

“Sorry girl, but we only got enough power for the lobby of this place,” the blue-haired boy shrugged, “We ain’t exactly rollin’ in dough, we only got so much to keep this place goin’.”

 

The girl added helpfully, likely feeling bad for Pip, “If ya want somewhere to stay, ya can head over to the Shady House. We’ve got more than enough beds since Team Skull’s disbandment.” She tosses you an umbrella with an easy flick of the wrist, “Take this, it’s gonna be a bit of a trek.”

 

It wasn’t all that bad, the walk was much shorter than the one you had taken the last time you had been here. But last time meant battles everywhere whereas you were now just trudging through a ghost town, mostly empty in your straight walk into the largest and most obnoxious mansion. The door creaks ominously as you push it open, seemingly untended to in a long time as there were quiet murmurs coming from different parts of the house. Trying to remember how to get to the bedrooms, you hauled the weakened boy to the nearest of one of these rooms and shoving the door open roughly to reveal somewhat familiar faces.

 

“ _You_!” The two males yelled, voices echoing in the largely empty house and likely gaining the attention of every single living being in a fifty-meter radius, “What the hell are you doin’ here? Are ya back to get our boss? ‘Cause if you are, you better be ready for some _pain_ little girl.”

 

Your eye twitched and your jaw set into a harsh line as you said lowly, “I’m here because somebody here has hurt themselves, and they don’t have anywhere else to stay. So you can either let me through so I can put him down, or we can do this the hard way.”

 

A pair of midnight dark eyes glared at you, “Oh so now you’re playin’ the hero, where were ya when we were sufferin’? We barely got enough to live, and ya expect us to give the person who took everything away from us a bed to sleep in?”

 

“I don’t need a damned bed,” your agitation levels were beginning to rise tremendously at these boneheads, “ _He_ does! And if you don’t move out of the way, you _will_ be regretting it.”

 

But before anyone else in the room could take issue with your blatant threat, a slow drawl came from behind you, “Who’s the stupid kid who thought they could mess with Team Skull?” The voice is too familiar; you don’t even need to turn around to know who it might be, “Ya need to be taught a lesson, brat?”

 

The two grunts in the room rush quickly to their ‘boss’s side, allowing you to walk forwards a bit and putting a dead-on-his-feet Pip onto a bed so he could rest his leg before you turn with the most wicked smile on your face. Your eyes were flashing with true insidious intent when you met the gaze of a now paling Guzma, “Is it _me_ who’s going to be getting the lesson? Or is it a certain _boy_ whose behaviour has been pretty _bad_ for the last few days.”

 

Guzma’s voice was caught in his throat, completely sidelined by you and not to mention the fact that you looked like you were about to stab and not slap him in the back with relish. Before he could say anything, his two grunts were nowhere to be seen and he was left alone to deal with the enraged lioness that was prowling closer and closer.

 

But even then, when it felt like you were going to skin him alive, it didn’t necessarily distract him from how good you looked. The outfit fit a little too well, the sweatpants hung low on your hips and revealed a decent amount of torso paired with the cropped tank top you were sporting. These however, had nothing on the aura that you were currently encased with and before he could do anything you had pounced on him.

 

Your arms wrapped around him tightly, your significantly shorter frame being unable to truly give him a bear hug, but the warmth in the embrace was not lost. Guzma’s arms enveloped you, almost in instinct as he returned the hug with a surprising amount of force, the words slipped past his lips in the moment of weakness, “I missed ya.”

 

The tomato red blush on his face was the first thing you saw when you pulled away from him, in incredulous surprise and with an answering flush was on your own cheeks. There’s a smile fighting its way to the surface, but you tamp it down with a mock glare, “Don’t think just that’s going to make everything even. What did you say about giving me a lesson?” The question comes out way more suggestive than you intended it to and you watch as a silly smirk spreads onto his face as he raises his eyebrows at you.

 

“I mean, the offer’s there if ya wanna take it,” Guzma chuckles, slightly self-conscious and wondering what the pensive expression on your face meant, “But if I remember right, I was threatened with a lesson as well.”

 

The glare you throw at him was weak, “You can shut up now.” You walk back over to where Pip was barely keeping his eyes open when you came to view, and you pulled a blanket snugly around him. It wouldn’t be long before he was out like a light, with no signs of an oncoming fever.

 

“So you’ve been here all this time?” This was a careful blandness to your tone as you asked the still male that was leaning against the wall next to the door. You begin leaving the room, snickering at the six people crowding around the room and clearly trying to listen in on the conversation.

 

Guzma sends the slyly smiling teenagers stares that had too little strength due to the mildly sheepish expression on his face, he nods towards them, “Keep an eye on the new kid, don’t want him gettin’ sick and dying.”

 

“I wanted to call someone to help, maybe Acerola could’ve given me a hand and brought him to a Centre so he could get that ankle looked at,” you explain as the two of you begin the slow ascent to the next floor. “But the kid had to go and smash it, so now I’m pretty much stuck here for the time being since I don’t want to be hauling him around in the rain.”

 

“And ya didn’t chew him out?” Guzma offers you a hand as you step out onto the balcony; he tries to hide the happiness when your warm palm slides naturally into his, “My plate fiasco got a stern earful.” You roll his eyes at the way he was recounting the occurrences.

 

“You still owe me plates,” there’s a teasing note to your voice even as you continue, “Which makes hard on me when you decide to disappear without a trace, or warning for that matter.” It doesn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t relinquished his hold on your hand as he laughed apprehensively, avoiding your sharp gaze.

 

Guzma’s saved from needing to respond to your thinly veiled ire by your arrival at his room, shoving the sagging door open to his still admittedly messy room, “Welcome back to my humble abode.” He doesn’t wait for you to come in before sitting down onto his unmade bed, trying to smooth it out a bit before you took your own place next to him.

 

“Hm,” you sniffed dramatically, “Just as depressing as when I first visited; you really need to get someone to redo the room if you’re planning on staying here.”

 

Guzma’s hand was in his hair, running his fingers through it in a telltale action of agitation, “Well, ya see, I wasn’t exactly plannin’ on staying here. But when I visited a few days ago to see who was still staying here, the kids looked so happy that I couldn’t just leave’em here while I just waltzed off.” His head hung a little, guilt plain in his tone, “Not after just dumpin’ them after the disbandment, they don’t have anyone left, not me or their big sis.”

 

“How many kids are still staying here?” You ask, mildly concerned that you had seen quite a number of them still around in this dying place, “I thought most of them had left already.”

 

He nods, “Yeah, that’s true. We’ve only got upwards eight or nine kids now, they’re definitely the most stubborn and scared of the lot. Everyone’s been takin’ care of them, I’m surprised people were able to just forget about all that crap we pulled.”

 

A luminous smile lights up your face as you laugh, “I told you Alola was filled with idiots; that or the hearts are generous and forgiving. For the most part,” you add the last bit in remembrance of the confrontation from a week ago. “You’ll have to forgive me when I say that your father isn’t one of them.”

 

You could see the way he deflated, his shoulders curling inwards and head drooping in an action that was just too heartbreaking; a long sigh punctuated the air. As much as you were admittedly curious about the entire story, the last thing you wanted was to make him relive things he clearly didn’t want to relive, so you chirp, “Forget it, let’s not think about this kind of thing after we just reunited.” You chuckle, “Let’s see if your Chinese Checkers skills have deteriorated in the last few days without such an amazing partner to practise with. You said you have games here?”

 

Guzma didn’t speak for a long moment, internal debate rising to feverish pitch to decide whether or not he wanted to take the way out that you had generously given or to be brave for once and give you the explanation that you deserved. He wondered how you could do it, to simply push things out of the way when it seemed to make him uncomfortable even if you wanted to know; out of all things, it is this part of you that he found the most selfless. Guzma thought about not telling you and just playing checkers, but he felt like a fraud pretending to be okay when both he and you knew that _nothing_ was okay.

 

Except for maybe the fact that you weren’t cornering him into telling you everything, but he was tempted. He wanted to know whether or not you would look at him the same way or if you would just get up and leave like so many people have done in his life. Most importantly, he wanted desperately for you to treat him as if he was just another friend or obvious disregard of his past like you have so far. But perhaps not just a friend, if he was being completely honest with himself considering the first thing he had wanted to do when he had you in his arms was to lean down and capture your lips with his.

 

“No,” Guzma rests against the headboard of his bed, as you sat cross-legged in front of him, “I owe you an explanation, and before you say that I don’t owe ya anything, I do. Don’t try to spin it anythin’ else, I’m not totally stupid if that’s what you think. But I appreciate the thought.”

 

Seeing that the somber look in his eyes as he began speaking about it, your features were schooled into one of underused seriousness as you looked at him, eyes lacking their distinct playfulness, “I never thought you were stupid, people that do stupid things doesn’t mean that they _are_ stupid.”

 

“If that were true, maybe the old man wouldn’t have done half the things he’s done,” Guzma’s voice was very low and too quiet as he began, “My dad was a professional golfer, he wasn’t anything close to that one girl, Kahili, but he had a few decent seasons. Except that was never enough, he wanted to be the best even if everyone knew he would never be more than he was.”

 

You were uncharacteristically silent as you listened to the story unfold, “That was until he got into the car accident. It really screwed with his leg, and he couldn’t play the way he once could. That was when I began golfing lessons.” Guzma swallowed hard, the misery of those days creeping up on him again.

 

Rubbing his face tiredly, he continued, “I guess I was pretty good, so suddenly all his dreams were pushed onto me. I was gonna be the best golfer Alola ever knew. So there I was, practising golf for hours and hours on end, all while he watched,” a dry chuckle left his lips, “Except I hated that goddamned sorry-excuse for a sport, the sport that left me home with only my mother for weeks. Eventually, I told him I didn’t want to do golf, that I wanted to be a Trail Captain, that was when things started changing.”

 

“The old man didn’t take no for an answer, and I learned that it was easier to just say yes and spare myself the pain,” he rubbed absently at his left arm as if recalling one of the more damaging blows he had suffered during that time. “But mom managed to convince him that I could give Pokémon training a try, and as long I kept bringing the trophies, he’d leave me alone. Mostly. But it was never enough, it didn’t matter how well I did in those competitions, they were all worth nothing more than dirt to him.”

 

He inhaled sharply, words rushing out as if he couldn’t control it, “I was never enough, will never be enough. The one day that he came to watch me battle, I lost. He came to see a battle after I had lost a golf competition, I had convinced him that I would become a famous trainer, but I lost. He could finally tell me how I’ve wasted my time training up a pathetic Pokémon like then-Wimpole. But I didn’t lose because of my _partners_ , it was because I wasn’t strong enough.”

 

You wanted so badly to say something, to provide some sort of comfort to the anguish that he clearly felt, but there was something that prevented your actions. Guzma’s laugh was strangled and bitter, echoing loudly in the mostly empty room, “That should’ve been the best day in my life, I was finally goin’ to show the old man what I was made of. He would come around and cheer me on for the rest of my Island Challenge, I was such an idiot!” The exclamation was fraught with unresolved anger and pain.

 

“But there I was, failure at Pokémon and failure at golfing, utterly useless,” there was a haunted note to the way he spoke as if repeating something he had heard many times in his mind. “I couldn’t do it, so like a coward, I ran away.” A faint smile appeared on his face before disappearing, “Not before I smashed those damn golf clubs, I swear he cared more for one those stupid things than he ever did for me. I never looked back and there were plenty of other kids who had no home and we all agreed to have each other’s back, and that was the very beginning of Team Skull.”

 

He glances at your surprisingly expressionless visage, almost no hints of what you might be feeling were visible beside the way that your eyebrows were furrowed deeply over a pair of dangerous eyes. “The rest you probably know,” a sarcastic smirk spread across his lips in place of the pained frown as he half-heartedly taunted, “Now all the dirty laundry has been aired, ya still wanna be seen with such a giant screw up?”

 

Your response was a roll of the eyes before you lunged at him once again, giving him the warmest hug you could, voice purposely light, “Does it seem like I care? Besides, I could think of worse company even if I didn’t like yours, which I do by the way.” You seemed to be completely unaware of the _provocative_ position you were in, lying directly on top of Guzma as you stare right into his darkened gray eyes.

 

There was something shimmering in your eyes, making Guzma’s heart begin to thump rapidly in his chest as you spoke, slowly and in a measured voice, “No one can _tell_ you that you’re a failure because they don’t know who you are, nor can they see the future and know that you won’t amount to anything. You aren’t a disappointment because the only person you should be worried about letting down is yourself.” You knew that he wouldn’t accept what you were saying right away, but what you didn’t see coming was the whispered response and the large hand that curled around your chin.

 

“I can think of one other person that I’m worried about letting down,” and before he could lose his nerve, he dips down and presses his lips to your too soft ones.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo it finally happened! 42K words later things are finally gonna start to pick up~! I've been bad with writing, but I promise that this fic will be finished if it's the last thing I do.


	6. Fearfully Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forward is a direction few want to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: there is some making out in this, nothing too um..descriptive but definitely enough for a T rating~!

_ In Which Goals are Made. And Guzma Scores Some _

 

He hears your breath catch in your throat, startled by his actions but instead of pulling away from him like he thought you would, you stay. Tentatively moving his lips against yours, he feels your mouth soften and slowly respond, causing a fire to begin to burn throughout his body. Your lips were pliant, and there was something unbelievably intoxicating that Guzma couldn’t resist trying to deepen the kiss by tilting his head to the side and catching your lower lip into his mouth.

 

Your mind was so hazy, you could barely comprehend anything that was going on and the conversation that you had just had was so far gone that the only thing you could focus on was Guzma. And the kiss, it was almost too gentle as if you were something that would be broken until you had slid his hands into his hair and sighed breathily into his mouth. A low groan came from him as he tried to reign himself in, because if he kept kissing you, there was no doubt that things would definitely go further than just that.

 

Pulling himself away, he takes in the misty look in your eyes and the way that your face was flushed with colour, breaths leaving your parted lips quickly. Watching you shake your head slightly to clear it and forming a small, shy smile, he hears you whisper, “Well that changes things.”

 

He couldn’t help it, the laugh that came from him was so bright and unlike any of his previous chuckles that you don’t stop your own laughter either. How was it that you could make him feel so happy even after reliving some of his darkest and most painful memories? Even though he never liked relying on others for strength, he found himself not so unwilling to lean on you for some joy in life.

 

You roll yourself off of him, but adjust yourself so you’re on your side and looking at him as you ask, “So are we a thing, then? Because you better have some good excuses ready if you want to backtrack.” Your lips were curled into a sly smile, amused by the way that he was nervously looking around the room, or rather anywhere but you.

 

“…Uh, yeah. If ya want, I mean you’re okay with it? Wait, what do you mean by thing?” Guzma had never felt so embarrassed, why did his brain have to shut off now out of all times but then again, how could his brain not shut off after a kiss like that.

 

He was being a little too endearing than any twenty-four-year-old ex-gang leader had any right to be, but you decide to throw him a bone, “I don’t know, like exclusive?” A falsely cute note accompanied the next suggestion, “Boyfriend-girlfriend?” You chuckled at the twitch in his eye at this and your voice drops a little, adding a little bit of a sultriness, “Friends with benefits?”

 

Guzma whips around to look at you, eyes comically wide as he gapes, “Are you screwin’ with me right now?”

 

Your eyes twinkled too brightly as you wink at him, “I mean, I could be if you wanted to.” You realize that this was likely the wrong thing to say, because his earlier embarrassment was nowhere to be seen and he’s turned and effectively pinned you onto the bed as he leans in close.

 

“Baby doll, don’t say things like that if ya don’t mean it,” his breath ghosts over your lips, “Cause if ya do, I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.” But before he could kiss you, you had leaned up and pecked him on the nose with an impish grin.

 

The chaste moment startles him out of whatever he had been planning to do as you smile up at him, “I never cared too much about labels, but there’s no way I would leave whatever this _thing_ is unnamed.” Your arms looped themselves around his neck, “How about partners? You’ll be my partner and I’ll be yours, even for the times when you want to be alone.” This pointed reminder startles him out of whatever mood he was in as he flops back onto his side with a thump.

 

How did he almost forget that he effectively spilled his soul out for you to see just moments before? Guzma took a moment to marvel at the effect you could have before muttering, “And here I was thinking that we could get back to kissin’. I’m sorry, alright? And I won’t be repeatin’ myself so you better have heard that.”

 

Your face flushed at his words, but you decide to focus on the latter half of his response, “For what it’s worth, there wasn’t much to forgive. I can understand why you didn’t want to stay with me, but it would have been nice for you to have let me know.” You reach over absentmindedly and take his hand, “A note would’ve sufficed.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, wanting the conversation to be over, “I’ll let you know if I ever lose my head again.” Wanting to change the topic, he tightens his grip on your smaller hand and lips quirking into a smirk, “So the ex-champ has a thing for the big bad boss; when did that start happenin’?”

 

You roll your eyes even if you didn’t think he could see it, “Is this some way for you to pad your ego?” But before he could deny it you shake your head, “Besides, even if I did tell you, I have the feeling that you wouldn’t even believe me.” You knew the words were true as they left your lips, there was no way he would trust that there was something about him, his stubbornness and unrelenting selflessness for the people he cares about that drew you to him. It was the way that he could become so passionate and driven, a never-die attitude that matched your own exuberance for life.

 

Most of all, it was the fact that life may have thrown him too many curveballs, but here he was still surviving, not perfectly to be fair, yet it didn’t matter. Because there was time to heal and grow, but there would be no healing a person who had lost the will to live.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Guzma mumbled, wondering what someone like you saw in him. You were so much of everything; it was hard to keep up with it most of the time. You exuded energy and had enough tenacity to pull through effectively anything; you were so ridiculously strong. It took a lot of strength to let things roll off your back the way it did, unlike how he couldn’t cast away the many things that weighed him down.

 

You sat up, pulling at your interlocked hands to get him to sit up too, “More pressing question since it’s my turn. Are you happy?” There is an expectant look on your face as you wait for his answer, “Do you trust me when I say that I like you, for reasons that you don’t know?”

 

Deciding to take a page from your book, Guzma lets himself just believe for a moment that the affection he could see in your pretty face was for him; it feels good, a little too good judging from the unrestrained grin that he was sporting now, “I’m happy, although maybe I’d be a little happier if you were here,” the suggestive wink he sends you doesn’t deter your movement to shift yourself into his embrace.

 

“Just so you know,” you look up at him, a hit of pink on your cheeks as you place your head softly onto his chest, “I want to take this slow, not just because you’re still dealing with issues, but because this is really new and I don’t want it to become a dumpster fire by tomorrow.”

 

An incredulous laugh punctuates the air as he shakes his head, “Only you would refer to a new relationship in the same sentence as a dumpster fire. Don’t worry ya pretty lil’ head about it, we can both be patient.” The sudden sound of footsteps and the door being thrown open interrupts whatever you were going to say as six young Team Skull members burst through the doorway out of breath.

 

“Ya gotta see this boss!” One of them exclaims, although stops when he sees the scene that he had barged in on, and he promptly shuts his mouth and stares at the way that you two were…cuddling? Did the boss cuddle? What the hell is this?

 

Seeing the beginning of mass panic in the kids’ eyes you say, “Go on, what does Guzma need to see? Must be something if you guys are all in such a rush.”

 

“The rain,” a girl says, eyes shining with excitement, “The rain is slowing a little, it was even better earlier! We swear we almost saw a patch of blue sky,” the excitement is palpable in the room as they all bounce on their feet. “What do you think happened boss? Has this ever happened before?”

 

Guzma immediately untangles himself from you and runs out of the room and towards the broken window to see that true to their words that the rain was so much lighter than usual, “You’re kidding, this has to be a joke.” His eyes blinked disbelievingly at the sight before him, “I’ve been here for close to ten years, but this…this I’ve never seen before.” The lack of rain was nothing short of a miracle and before he could say anything you had leaped past him and into the light showers.

 

A bright smile was plastered on your face as you dashed into the overhanging balcony, ignoring the errant splatters of raindrops that fell on you as you peered into the sky, “You guys are right! I think I see some sky from here,” an idea comes to mind and you begin clamouring onto the other side of the roof while reaching for Primarina’s Pokéball.

 

Guzma knew that you were going to do something, it was written all over the way you jumped excitedly over the railing of the balcony and onto the tiles of the roof that was slick with rain. He didn’t even have time to yell at you to be careful before you had dived right off of the Shady House with a loud whoop that echoed in the ghost town.

 

A loud splash confirms his suspicions, but even then he runs to where you had jumped off to see you floating happily in what should have been an empty pool. But it was clear who had filled it up based on the blue tail that was waving about in the water, excitedly bobbing about around you all while you continued to giggle.

 

Your voice held its signature recklessness as you called out from the pool, “Did I scare you?” You had floated up to the surface, although your soaked clothing threatened to pull you under as you wave at him, “Are you coming, or are you too much of a wuss?”

 

Without thinking too much about it, he yanks off his hoodie to follow suit and begins running towards the edge, there’s not much time to realize that what he’s doing is stupid and could end badly in hundreds of different ways. There’s only one thing in his mind, and that is to just do; marked by the brazen smile on his lips and the loud yell as he leaps off of the roof, he freefalls into the cool water with a loud splash.

 

When he resurfaces, you’re there to greet him with a splash all while laughing exuberantly, even more so when Guzma shakes his head like a wet dog, sending flying droplets your way. You poke him, “I approve.”

 

“Whaddya mean?” He is pushing his now drenched hair out of his forehead, smoothing it back so that it hung appealingly over his eyes which added to his arrogant grin, “You mean ya boy’s obvious charm and good-looks?” Guzma didn’t know where this was all coming from, but the rush of adrenaline and your incandescent self that seemed to be rubbing off on him and making forget the things that have been worrying him.

 

A sweet smile lights up your eyes as you say, “That, but mostly this,” your hand that held its impossible warmth skated across the curve of his lips, “A real smile.” Before he could grab you by your waist and pull you close to kiss you, a boisterous scream of _Cowabunga_ interrupts along with a giant splash of water beside the two of you.

 

“Yo Boss!” The pink-haired girl’s face was revealed and her hair clung to her cheeks as she asks, “When didja fill the pool?” But before he could explain what actually happened, Primarina bursts from the bottom of the water and into the air to do a spin before diving back in.

 

“…Showoff,” Guzma muttered, not knowing that your soloist Pokémon could hear every syllable and drags him down below the surface by his foot, effectively shutting him up. You make eye contact with the shocked teen and you both burst into chuckles. You aren’t alone for long since eventually, all the remaining residents of Po Town had jumped off the roof and into the pool for a bit of fun, raucous and crazy, the way that Team Skull did everything.

 

You were so engrossed by this that you didn’t notice that it had stopped raining completely, the sky was beginning to clear up until you could see light glistening off the droplets of water that clung to Guzma’s naked torso. How you noticed this first was not up for question, but when you pointed it out, the rest of the troops raised their gazes to see the sun shining in Po Town for the very first time in years. Even you were dazed by the way everything looked, so different from the scene that had become familiar to you as a sense of peace washed over you, wiping away any of your earlier excitement.

 

But as the same calm appeared in everyone else’s hearts, the sky began covering once more with clouds and soon the rain was back to splattering on the ground, effectively ruining the moment. There is a thought that flits through your mind, an idea that you had entertained just once a few months ago about Po Town and the ‘curse’. You never thought that your random pondering would have actually been true, which it isn’t. But it is similar, and what had just happened definitely put a coin towards your personal theory that the weather was in part influenced by the emotions of the residents of Po Town.

 

You begin dragging yourself out of the water, one hand on the band of your heavily soaked sweatpants to ensure they didn’t just slip off your hips to give everyone a show. Although you had no doubts that Guzma wouldn’t complain, you were positive that the rest of the teens in the pool would be happy never to see it. The sky had returned once again to its lightly showering, a marked improvement of the sheets of rain that usually fell, but even then you all rushed into the dilapidated mansion to dry off.

 

“Where’s the washroom?” You asked, trying not to track water all over the once plush carpet while trying not to flush in awareness of your newly acquired ‘partner’s nakedness as he toweled off his hair. “I’m going to need a shower.”

 

Guzma shrugged, “There’s a bathroom attached to my room,” he turned to the rest of the sodden Team Skull members, “You all clean yaselves, I don’t want dirty water all over the Shady House; ya know where the showers are.”

 

A chorus of ‘Yes, Boss!’s come from the small herd of adolescents, quickly scurrying away to do what Guzma asked them to, not waiting a second more which causes a slight smile to appear on your face. “Those kids really do love you.”

 

“Nah,” he stuck a hand into his damp hair after slinging the wet towel over his shoulder, “They know who’s boss s’all, it’s respect baby doll, something ya don’t have for anyone.”

 

You make a face at him, “I do too respect people, and it’s not just respect that they feel or else they would’ve just dipped as soon as the chance presented itself.” Your hand seems to reach naturally for him as you interlock your fingers and begin to head to his room, “They love you, they admire you, and they are infinitely thankful that you took them in when no one would.”

 

A heavy sigh comes from him as he nods, “Yeah, those kids are just too stubborn; the reason I stayed was because no matter what I said, I couldn’t make’em leave the only home they’s ever known.” You could hear the unheard question that lingered on his lips, what could he do or say that would convince there was nothing left here besides broken dreams and angry hearts?

 

Po Town had always been a place of unhappiness since its birth due to the wealthy families that inhabited the opulent houses, the rich rarely could feel truly happy and spent their days within thinly-veiled rivalry between each other. This festering of anger and shallow emotions had incurred the ire of the Tapu who saw fit to curse the town with torrential rain that reflected the constant state of the hearts of the people that lived within. While they were angry, they were mostly disappointed in the residents of the town, and so decided that the weather would change with the hearts of the people. However, simple contentment would be unable to clear the skies, such was the curse, making your plans much more difficult.

 

You didn’t know this of course, but you still smiled at Guzma, “So you don’t want to stay here? I thought this was a long-term thing since those kids would probably hang off your pant leg if you tried leaving.”

 

“As much I care about those kids, I was thinkin’ more of makin’ our thing a long-term thing,” there’s a reddish tinge to his cheeks as he voiced out his thought, making him look all too sweet paired with the hesitant way he looked at you, “If ya want of course.”

 

“Duh,” your easy response wiped away the embarrassment as you bumped him with an elbow, “You’re not getting me out of your hair that easy; I’d say you are certifiably stuck with me.”

 

Guzma rolls his eyes at your antics, “Why do I feel like that should be my line? I mean you’re the one who’s puttin’ up with all my crap all the time—” He doesn’t even get to finish what he’s saying when he feels your small hand hit him in the lower back, a bit too hard in his opinion.

 

“Stop that, you know not everyone can stand me,” your lips were downturned at the thought that he found himself somehow lesser and a burden, “I mean, sure I put up with _your_ crap, but have you ever thought about the crap you endure with me?”

 

Seeing that he was looking quite unconvinced, you stop him on the stairs and tug on his arm so that he’s facing you directly as you list off, “Running around in the rain for a Castform, an entire day at a volcano, and doing manual labour for Hala for me. Don’t be so self-sacrificing, I never thought that was one of your personality traits.”

 

There’s a debilitating warmth that spreads throughout his body at your words, his heartbeat quickening as he pulls you into his arms and wanting a little bit of your light closer. How you managed to find the good in everything is beyond him, but that wasn’t the prime concern as he slid an arm around your slim waist and pull you close. Guzma’s voice was husky as he whispered, “You’re right, I’m as selfish as they come.”

 

Before you were able to dispute or agree to that claim, his lips had already covered yours in a kiss that was more desperate than the previous, as if the kisses in your future were numbered. You responded readily to his ardour and slide your palms over the smooth skin of his torso to fist his soft hair within your hands. When he begins paying special attention to your lower lip, the soft pressure of his teeth and tongue elicits a soft sigh and a shiver of pleasure from you. You feel him want more, but you were frankly, really gross from not having showered, and you knew that if you kept at it you would likely be stuck on the stairs for way too long. And this option is getting more and more tempting as the kiss drew on, but at last, you break to take a much-needed breath allowing you to make your break towards freedom and a warm shower.

 

Blowing him a kiss over your shoulder, you dart into Guzma’s room with a skip in your step but the entire thing is thrown when you stick your head out of the room to ask, “Um, where're your towels?”

 

. . .

 

Your hair was wrapped up into a towel while you were sporting one of Guzma’s pull-over hoodies that he had lying around as well as pair of shorts that you found in Plumeria’s room after realizing that walking around in just a hoodie was a bit too…breezy. You had the foresight to bring extra toiletries since the very first time you had found yourself soaked to the bone on your initial adventures. People usually could lend t-shirts and pants, but undergarments are significantly harder to lend and accept. Once dressed, you were reclining casually on the still-unmade bed as Guzma fiddled with his long-dead laptop on his ‘throne’.

 

“Still trying to get that thing to work?” You, on the other hand, were trying to see if the Rotom-Dex could make calls, which had proved to be a lot harder than you expected. The blasted orange Pokémon had been miffed that he hadn’t been able to chat in a while, so he’s been trying to make up for lost time as you nodded to whatever he was saying.

 

Guzma didn’t even look up from his tinkering as he responded, “You still tryin’ to talk to a small and not to mention annoying living Pokédex? Dunno why they didn’t just make ones that did its job.”

 

You covered your mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to emerge as your Rotom very angrily buzz itself towards Guzma, railing at him to which the white-haired male ignored until the tinny voice cried, “Well I was going to help you fix that laptop, but now that this is what you think of me, I shall retract my offer.” To which you watched, this time not bothering to hide your laughter, as Guzma grovels quite pathetically to the floating Pokémon that relented a few seconds in.

 

Once his computer was up and running, you ask the question that’s been floating around in your mind for the past while, “So what’s the plan, then _boss_? If you’re not planning on staying, where will these kids go afterwards, if they even are willing to leave?”

 

His fingers stop moving across the keyboard as he sighs deeply, “I don’t know, there’s no way I’m just abandonin’ them if I know they’ll just stay here regardless. Po Town may not be the best place to live but to them its _home_. Hell, it was home to me just a couple of months ago, and I have a feelin’ that there are other kids who’ll call it home in the future.”

 

You unravel your towel to let the still damp strands of hair to fall down as you answer, “That will always be the case as long as there are kids who feel like they have nowhere else to go, you’ve definitely got that right.” Your voice trails off as you debate whether or not to tell him the idea you had been toying with mentally and you decide to just say it. “What if they didn’t have to leave?”

 

This causes him to put down whatever he was doing to look at you with a surprisingly cute bewildered expression on his face, “Wait, what? They can’t stay here, the money’s bound to run out sometime and I don’t want them to go back to petty theft to keep this dyin’ place up. You can’t possibly think that they’ll survive here,” you could see the ire rising within him and before it could explode you interrupt.

 

“No, I’m not saying that,” you curled yourself up slightly, stuffing your knees into the ridiculously over-sized hoodie and resting your chin on your legs, “I was thinking of what happened today, with the rain stopping and the sun shining for the first time. It got me wondering if it was possible then, that somehow we could stop the rain and rebuild the entire town.” Your mind began racing as the idea took hold.

 

“I mean, it wouldn’t even be that hard,” a feverish light appeared in your glowing face, “You’re already a whiz at patching things up, I’m sure Hala and the other Trail Captains, Kahunas, will be willing to help. Not to mention all the ex-Team Skull members, Plumeria included.”

 

Guzma tried to fight the rising tide of hope within his chest, “But what then? Why would they even rebuild this dump, and who would pay for this thing? And how is it even possible to stop the rain, today might have been a fluke.”

 

“…Yeah,” as much as you didn’t want to admit that all of the questions he brought up you couldn’t answer, it was true, “I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” The downcast way that you hugged yourself tighter tugged at his heart, making him guilty for shutting down your suggestion. He stood up from his purple throne to walk to where you were dejectedly rocking yourself back and forth within your ‘sweater ball’ and without warning plucks you from your seat before sitting down with you in his lap.

 

Your lips were now tilted up into a sly smirk when you feel him tightening his hold on you, “You’re getting pretty touchy-feely; I didn’t think you were the type to be so cuddly,” your gaze was trained on his currently flustered looking face to which you add, “Not that I’m complaining, I happen to like affection. A lot.” You beam up at him before pressing a swift kiss onto his cheek.

 

Saved from having to explain why he constantly wanted you in his arms, Guzma changes the subject back to the more serious one, “I’m not saying that your idea is bad, but there’re so many things that we ain’t sure of yet. Especially about the weather, there’s nothing we can do to make sure that the sun stays shining or that anyone will even _want_ to rebuild this place after we destroyed it.”

 

“But?” You knew that there was something coming, and he could almost see the metaphorical tail wagging as you waited.

 

“If the rain _did_ stop, and that is a pretty big ‘if’ baby doll, I think we could do it,” Guzma’s mind has already created a bustling and livened community filled with people of all walks of life. There would be a place for kids who had nowhere to go along with the regular things that could be found in a city, maybe even a salon manned by none other than Plumeria herself.

 

The joy you exuded was palpable as you wriggled excitedly in your perch unknowing of the effect this created for the male you were in the lap of, he tightens his arms around your body in response to try to get you to still. Amazingly, you do when you reply, “So if I figure out a way to stop the rain—”

 

“You mean when _we_ figure out a way to stop the rain,” he interrupts, large hand cupping your face while his thumb skated on your cheek, “You weren’t about to discount your partner, were ya? That really hurts baby doll.”

 

Your cheeks redden at his words, making it near impossible for anything to distract Guzma away from kissing you again, he’d never tire of the soft feeling of your mouth along with your taste. That unnameable flavour that reminded him of your warm sunshine, it was too addicting and too delicious.

 

But in that moment the door to his room slammed open a second time, this time with an enraged Pip trying to be held back by two Team Skull grunts who were yelling things like, “Yo man, ya can’t go in boss’ room!” and “Yo, boss’ lady friend is in there, and ya don’t know what they might be up to.”

 

It seemed that Pip was finally awake and judging by the way he was currently leaning against the doorframe with an awkward expression on his face, still favouring his twisted ankle. You leaped up from Guzma’s lap to hurry to his side, “What are you doing up? You should be resting that ankle of yours, there’s no need to make it any worse than it is.”

 

His little face was reddened with both bashfulness and some leftover worry as he mumbles almost inaudibly, “I thought you just left like everyone else left me, I was scared.” Your natural instinct is to gather him in a hug, feeling a little guilty for just leaving him somewhere strange without a note or anything.

“I’m sorry about that sweetie,” you rubbed his back gently as you quip, “I didn’t mean to scare you but don’t worry, you still haven’t paid back your phone debt so there’s no way you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

 

You pull back to poke him in the forehead, “Now stop with the long face, you’re dry for the most part and you’re safe. But we still have to get you to a centre to take a look at your ankle because even though it doesn’t seem too bad, I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

 

But he seemed to have been distracted by something, or someone, behind you since his head was now tilting up past where your eyes were to someone taller. His eyes went wide with shock as he breathed, “Oh my God.”

 

“Huh?” You tilt your head up and to the side to see Guzma standing pretty close behind you and studying the young boy with a critical eye, “Oh, yeah. You’re in the Shady House, the kinda-territory of the one and only Team Skull ‘Boss’ Guzma, but don’t worry, his bark is so much worse to his non-existent bite.”

 

The annoyed ‘hey’ from said boss broke whatever ice was in the room as Pip chuckled, clearly relaxed and not as wary of the name that once terrorized Alola, “Hello, sir.”

 

“Did you? Did he—” Guzma’s lips were tilted up into a smug smile, “Y’know what, I like this kid. Haven’t been called sir non-sarcastically…basically ever.” Whatever you were going to say next was interrupted by a loud growl from Pip’s stomach, clearly signaling where you would all be going.

 

“You can fangirl over being called sir in the kitchen,” you tease, linking an arm through the teenage boy and supporting his weight as you began to leave the room, “You still have food in the kitchen, right?”

 

The face that Guzma makes at your inquiry is overdramatic but still funny, “No brainer, ‘course we do. That’s the only thing we always have too much of, no such thing as budgeting when it comes to food.” But after considering the time and realizing it was close to dinner anyway had him rounding up the rest of the kids for food, and some fun because that was always involved with any Team Skull activity.

 

. . .

 

After food had been prepared, a team effort by everyone except Pip due to his foot, and Guzma due to his inhuman ability to set things on fire, everyone tucked in. As you ate, you chatted with Pip, who was forthcoming with what had happened to him and why there was currently a Goomy that was stuck to him. Speaking of Goomy, the girl had taken a real shine to you and was now adamant about staying with the rest of your adequately named, ‘daycare team’ that Primarina was herding around. Right after dinner, you fly with him to the nearest Pokémon Centre to get his ankle checked out, and upon hearing the news you had already guessed and binding the injured appendage with a thick bandage you were sent on your way.

 

You thought about going home for the night, knowing that you ran the risk of yet another destroyed house when you returned to your house, but you were so exhausted that you wouldn’t will yourself to fly all the way back to Melemele. So upon changing into yet another one of Guzma’s sweaters and sweatpants, you readied yourself for bed and headed towards Plumeria’s still empty room only to be grabbed by Guzma and pulled into his chest.

 

“Where ya think you’re going baby doll?” His voice was low and husky as he spoke, his warm breath hitting your cheek and causing your stomach to flutter. “You weren’t thinking about abandoning me all by myself in that cold room were ya?”

 

Your eye twitched, “Then how were you able to keep warm on those cold days after you left, hm? Is there something you want to tell me about what’s been happening in that room of yours?” One of your hands had slid itself beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, warm hand smoothing over his skin and causing Guzma’s throat to dry.

 

“No, not at all,” his voice was a little shaky as you looked up at him with your eyebrows raised, “I just, there won’t be any funny business, I promise. I just wanna hold you.” This confession has the expected result of melting your heart and further convinces you that his desire for you is not even mainly physical.

 

But unbeknownst to you, Guzma was fully aware of this fact, it was too clear in the way that he wanted to be with you compared to other people he’s had. It was impossible to think about have just a purely physical relationship with you, not when he wanted something else more from you. As much as he didn’t want to think that he _needed_ you for anything, he knew better than to deny the strength that you gave him when it came to dealing with his emotions and other demons. Even though the fact that you were with him now assuaged the worry, it never left his mind that he needed you so much more than you would ever need him and that scared him more than he knew.

 

Now that he had you, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose you because contrary to what you had said earlier of having to put up with your crazy ideas, Guzma still deeply believed that he was the broken part in this ‘partnership’. He was the one who had explosive tantrums, who ran at the first thought of sharing, who couldn’t stand on his own two feet like you could.

 

But as your smaller body fit softly into his arms, he resolved to just take advantage of the opportunity until he couldn’t anymore. If for some reason you decided not to leave him, then he’ll be content to keep holding you as long as time and you permitted. There was even a small voice in his mind that declared that when you broke it off with him, not if, since he knew it was going to happen, he would be happy just being an acquaintance. Because it felt like he needed your light to survive, and what would his world be like without light?

 

. . .

 

You decide the next day to fly quickly back to Melemele to pick up some ‘provisions’ as well as your huffy partners who were miffed at being abandoned again at night; you had planned on staying a little longer in Po Town. The Team Skull kids were fine, but a large part of you was concerned for Pip who seemed constantly worried that you would just abandon him. Over the course of a week, he had slowly opened up about what had happened, and why he showed up at the doorstep of Team Skull territory.

 

Pip was effectively an orphan, his parents had died in a freak accident five years back which lead to him sent to live with his grandmother who he loved very much. In fact, it was this grandmother that saved him from living with his greedy aunt and uncle that had made no secret of their disdain of Pip with the exception of his inheritance. But a week ago, his grandmother had a heart attack and is now unable to take care of him, leaving him no choice but to return to his aunt and uncle’s place. But his brief stay with them a couple of years ago made him sure that he wanted nothing to do with them, which lead him to run to the place that no one wanted to go.

 

Po Town.

 

After saving a Goomy from am angry Scraggy and spraining a foot, the rest of the story was clear; the other Goomy must have been a friend of Pip’s Goomy who had gone out to seek help and found you. Pip was from Akala Island, which meant that he was pretty alone on Ula’ula and was effectively stuck here until further notice since he didn’t exactly have anywhere to stay.

 

There was also the fact that Guzma couldn’t leave, and you didn’t exactly find the thought of just going back to Melemele while he was all tied up in knots here without anyone to help. What with the fact that you guys were now a ‘thing’ it didn’t seem right, and besides, you now had easy access to the places around Ula’ula that you hadn’t had the chance to hunt around for certain Pokémon. It wasn’t too bad of an arrangement at all. What the two of you had spent most of your time doing, however, had little to do with any of this but rather with research on the history and curse of Po Town.

 

It was as if he finally had a goal, a vision that he was working towards that allowed him to become the focused and relentless individual that you always knew he was. Even though there had been moments of wavering and frustration, you had worked out these small hiccups together and got closer and closer to what could be the solution to the rain problem. The documents and resources from the Internet all pointed to the Tapu, but as for whether or not the Tapu would be willing to rescind the curse and if there were conditions to it.

 

The days passed by idyllically, a stark contrast to Guzma’s life in the past years and he had never felt so content constantly that certain thoughts began seeping into his mind, unsettling him. Whenever night came and you fell comfortably into his arms, there was always this unstoppable moment of absolute terror when he wondered if one day you were no longer here with him. If you had left him. So it was no surprise that these fears presented themselves in the form of a nightmare.

 

. . .

 

You weren’t exactly a light sleeper, so the fact that something had jolted you awake meant only bad. Your eyes were bleary with sleep, but you couldn’t seem to feel the warmth of Guzma’s chest pressing against your back of his distinct scent that you breathed when you fell asleep. As you woke up completely, you realized it was because he was fitfully thrashing and mumbling in his sleep that he had migrated completely from your side to the edge of the bed and threatening to tip over. Moving over so that you could get a clearer picture of what was going on, you gently place a hand on his cheek, his face twisted into deep fear and anger as he muttered things like, ‘No!’ ‘Don’t!’ ‘You can’t!’ at the final exclamation you decide you wake him up by tapping on his shoulder.

 

“Hey, Guzma,” you whisper, seeing that he was beginning to awaken and brush the mussed of strands of his bangs back, “Honey, relax. You’re okay.” But no sooner than he realizes he’s awake that he grabs onto you like you’re a lifeline and holding you tightly to almost the point of pain. “Guzma?”

 

He was clearly still not completely awake because the words the fell from his trembling lips were things he would have never said in the light of day, “Please don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. He’s going to try to take you away, I promise I didn’t do it, please don’t go. I need you.”

 

You could feel your heart shatter because you knew now that things hadn’t changed, there was still too much of him that didn’t believe in himself, and this was showing through in the way he was speaking now. You let him bury his face in the crook of your neck as you rifled your hands through his hair and patted him on the back as he calmed, “You’re okay. I’m still here, it was just a bad dream.”

 

When he has finally returned to normal, and besides slightly reddened eyes an embarrassed expression on his face he appeared to be his usual self. There was an awkward pause as you asked, “Did you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” Guzma muttered, avoiding your gaze and twisting the sheets beneath his palms, “Nothin’ to talk about, just a stupid dream. I’m fine, can we go back to sleep?” There’s a bad feeling in the air as he turns from you and begins inching his fingers closer and closer to his hair.

 

“It’s obviously not just a silly dream if this is your reaction,” you want to just leave it alone, but his actions and words when he woke up were affected you, “You’re not fine, and you can’t convince me that this is just a one-off.”

 

There was a fierce glare in his eyes as he whips his gray gaze to you, voice low with annoyance as he mutters, “Back off, alright? I’m fine, and I think I would know when I’m fine by myself, without someone like _you_ tellin’ me. I don’t need ya to babysit me or somethin’.”

 

“Why are you telling me to back off? I don’t want to hurt you, and you should know enough that I’m not just going to bolt when something bad happens,” there is a shadow of hurt in your face as you try to hold on to the quickly slipping calm, “And I care about you, a lot. I’m your partner.”

 

Swinging his legs off of the bed so that he could stand in his room, pacing as he tried to control the growing maelstrom of emotions that were swirling dangerously, “It’s got nothin’ to do with you, and I don’t need ya to be worryin’ over me. I can take care of myself, so spare me ya concern, _partner_.”

 

The way he spat out the last word felt like a sharp rod that struck your chest as your face hardened and your lips pressed into a cold line, “I’m not going to ask you again, what made you so upset? It shouldn’t be so hard to tell me what got you so riled up that you’re lashing out at me like this.” You swallowed the barb that you were about to throw at him, knowing that this conversation was quickly approaching treacherous waters.

 

“Ya wanna know so bad? Fine, I’ll tell ya,” Guzma growled, gesticulating wildly while his hands clenched and unclenched, “I dreamed that you left me, you just got up and tossed me aside for someone better without even lookin’ back. Everyone said it was only natural, it was expected, I was lucky enough to have had you when clearly I was nothin’ more than a pathetic screw-up.”

 

Your eyes lose their anger immediately as you try to reach out to him, “I’m not leaving you—”

 

“But what about a month from now, two months, a year from now,” Guzma eyes were wild with fear and anger as he began reaching for a long untouched bottle, “Ya still able to say you’ll be here with me? That you wouldn’t have realized what a mistake you made? That you found someone who could offer ya more than _nothin_ ’?”

 

“Don’t drink.” Your voice was eerily cold as you pin him with the very first glare you had ever in his memory ever giving, “Don’t you dare drink when we’re trying to talk.”

 

“Talkin’? Baby doll this is what we call _fightin_ ’, look at ya all riled up,” he scoffs, the sarcastic sound grating on your ears as he raises the glass bottle, “Givin’ me orders are ya? You tellin’ me what to do? Fine. I won’t drink.” But he launches the container at the wall where it shatters, liquor and glass shards sprinkling the vicinity with a loud crash.

 

You can’t even look at him for fear of what you might do, you opt instead to take several deep breaths as you begin to get out of the bed all while not making a single sound. Guzma watches as you begin to gather your things, methodically and not once looking in his direction, an expression of barely contained anger and hurt on your face.

 

“You’re leaving me?” His earlier viciousness had melted away in to utter desperation as he rushed to where you were now standing, “You said you wouldn’t leave, _you said you wouldn’t leave me!_ ” The frantic look in his eyes and the way he was grasping at you with trembling fingers scared you, his anger never scared you, but this hopelessness and abject despair were what terrified you beyond reason.

 

You never wanted to run away from something more than now, you had never been someone who shied away from situations, but this? This wasn’t something you wanted to face. You couldn’t possibly deal with all of this, it asked too much of you and it was one of the things you had said that you never wanted to.

 

Yet, you didn’t want to leave him and you wanted to help him in whatever way you could even if you knew that it would be too difficult, “I’m not leaving you.” You don’t move as he takes you into his arms, you gently wrap your arms around him and waited until his breathing slowed. You pressed your cheek softly against his, “I don’t break my promises.”

 

His voice was low, but clearly audible as he said, a broken note to his tone as if he had been defeated, “You can’t leave me. I _need_ you.” This was the second time he admitted this, and just like the first, it filled you with a slow burn that pushed you to shove him onto the bed so you could stare into his gray eyes that looked black in the low light. His hands fall back to brace himself, surprise clear on his face as he watched you walk forward so that you were leaning over him.

 

Your hands come up to cup his face, fingers warm on his cheeks as you leaned closer and closer so that your forehead rested lightly on his, “You don’t need me,” and before he could argue the opposite, you curb him with your solemn stare, “You cannot need me, you cannot _need_ anybody besides yourself, because in the end, the only person you can always rely on is yourself. No one will always be there beside you, whether because they are unable to or they do not wish to, which means that only you can fight through whatever it might be.”

 

“Guzma,” you begin, exhaustion simmering beneath your every word, “I care about you and I like you, a lot even. But I do not need you to survive, just like you don’t need me to survive. Rather, I want you to be my partner, and as a part of my life because I have a lot of fun with you, and you make me happy when you aren’t so moody.”

 

“I cannot, and _will not_ be your lifeline,” your lips brush his cheek, “Only you can be your own lifeline. But I will stand beside you and support you as any partner should, you can rely on me for a lot of things, but not your life’s happiness.”

 

Even though your words are not all that pretty, they still resonate within his chest and there is a part of him that acknowledges that you were right, as you usually were about these things. But Guzma can’t help but say, “But my life is so _empty_ without you.”

 

Here your smile finally returns, its brilliance magnified tenfold by the glow of pure joy that decorated your features as you say to him, “Yet it is your life, and life is not worth living for anyone else besides yourself. Your life is far from empty, you’ve got a goal and we’re going to make it happen, even if for some reason I didn’t want to help, you wouldn’t quit until Po Town was the place you had imagined it to be.”

 

Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, you slump onto him as you yawn, “Don’t you ever think your life needs me, you’re a survivor and it means you were born to persevere and to never let things go. I believe in you.” The next words are mumbled as you begin to drift off still halfway on his lap, “Let’s head to Malie Library tomorrow.” And then you were out like a light.

 

Guzma gently tucked you in before he lay beside you, mind mulling over the words that you had spoken so passionately earlier as they fought the old memories that had told him that he had been worthless. A fierce determination stole over his turmoil-filled gray eyes, you were right. He was a survivor no matter what anyone else said about him, it did not negate some of the things he had helped build, and now he was going to build something even bigger.

 

A small smile slid onto his lips as he imagined a small town that had a few specialty shops, a café that sold decent Tapu Cocoa, and a place for kids like Pip to go. And you were there, in the thick of things as was he, it was a bustling and lively place that could be called home, and _he_ , Guzma, was going to make it happen.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a rollercoaster if I do say so myself, I do want to unpack some of the issues that my 'Guzma' needs to work through to get his true redemption! We're winding down hehehehe


	7. Tapu Tussles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff, sandstorms, and un-cursing.

_ In Which Things are Confronted _

 

When Guzma opens his eyes, he realizes that you weren’t in bed with him due to the absence of your warmth and soft scent that he had grown accustomed to being in his arms. It wasn’t until he had stumbled out of bed and seen the mess of glass and alcohol that still pooled at the base of the wall that he remembers the spectacular incident last night. There isn’t even enough time for him to feel anything when the door bursts open to reveal you sporting a brightly coloured floral sundress that clung insistently to your tapered waist and fell loosely about your knees.

 

“I see you’re finally up sleepy-head,” there’s a playful quirk to your lips as you stride into the room with both your Salandit and a newly acquired Vanillite that had the tendency to dive into Guzma’s snow-like fluffy hair. You had been building up your ‘daycare team’ and had added the cheery snow-cone Pokémon to the crew, and besides being melted from time to time from a cantankerous Salandit, he had been doing well.

 

Seeing the company that you had brought, a low chill travelled down his spine. You were clearly still a little pissed at his behaviour last night, considering the back-up you had brought today to wake him up. Due to his notoriously terrible ability at rising in the morning, you had taken to calling up one of your babies to assist, none with as much relish than your protective-to-a-fault fire lizard. He watched warily as your Vanillite floated over, intent on nesting in his wildly messy hair with a happy little tinkle. But nothing could really beat the way that your Salandit had positioned herself on your shoulder looking almost disappointed at the reality that she wouldn’t be able to chew on some appendage of his. Last time it was his nose.

 

No, he didn’t like it all. And especially not the…was that a smile? Guzma tore his gaze away from that headache to you, “We were going out today?” He begins getting out of bed, heading towards where you were standing with your arms crossed over your chest, “You’re mad at me.”

 

You let him slide his arms around your back and bring you close, “Malie Library, remember? I think they’ll have some documents that might help with our little wild goose chase, which means we have to head out soon.” He doesn’t let you go and you know that he wants a response to his second conjecture, and you sigh into his chest, “I’m not mad. Just…I don’t know, a little scared.”

 

Guzma laughs incredulously, unbelieving of your confession, “I’ve seen you scared a grand total of once, ya were totally fearless facin’ down Aether and all ‘em Ultra Beasts. What could you be scared of?”

 

“This is a conversation I’d rather have completely drunk,” there’s a hint of your usual humour as you shrug, “But I think it’s important that I tell you why I’m scared, and the real reason I came to Alola. It’s kind of a long story, or at least I would like to tell it one go; I’m not as perfect as you seem to think I am.”

 

“…Ya don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” but there was an undeniable curiosity in his voice, one that he couldn’t completely mask which causes you to giggle. Grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door and into the kitchen for some food, you rush out together through the light drizzle of rain and towards Malie City again. The journey would likely take most of the morning, being that you two would have to hike quite a bit to get to the Kanto-styled city. Once on the road, all of your children decide that it is high time for them to set out on their own, and they disappear together into a patch of grass by the road which left you alone with Guzma.

 

Your hands find each other in a natural movement that didn’t surprise either of you, and breathing in the mid-morning air you ready yourself to speak, “I guess this is as good a time as any,” there’s a melancholic twist on your lips as you look at him, “Try not to interrupt, and save questions to the end.” This was said with only a half-joking tone, and Guzma understood that this was something that you had likely held close to your heart, because it deeply affected you and he felt happy that you were willing to share it.

 

“I lived in Kanto for a long time in a small town, I could count the number of families there on my fingers,” you began, voice unhesitant and strong as you recalled your days there, “So it was expected that everyone was really tight-knit, including my two best friends, although one of them became more than a friend as time passed. It was funny, everyone seemed to expect us to get together and when we did, people kept asking when we were going to take the next step.”

 

“What happened?” There is genuine concern in his voice as he sees your eyes darken with emotions that swirled violently.

 

“I guess you could say I got complacent, I expected it to happen and it was this expectation that drove me to let go of opportunities that I now regret not taking.” There is heavy bitterness in your voice as you recall your decisions at that time, driven by what you had thought was love, “My life revolved around that relationship, everyone expected us to marry, to have a family together that I started thinking it was only natural.”

 

Your eyes tilted to look at him, an uncharacteristically sardonic smile on your lips as you continue, “So imagine my shock when my almost-spouse tells me that it’s our other best friend that they want, not me. At least, not any longer.”

 

“There was no cheating involved, or else things would have ended even more terribly than it had,” your laugh was so cold that Guzma wanted to do something to melt the strange chill that had enveloped the both of them despite the hot weather. “But it was already too late, I had planned my life dependent on those expectations, on everyone’s expectations and now I was left with nothing.”

 

There’s an ironic lilt to your tone as you say, “That’s why needing people is dangerous, and why it scares me. Even though I have no plans on leaving you, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t accidents that might take me from your side. It’s so painful needing someone else, and when they leave, there’s a gaping hole in you and your life that takes too long to fill.”

 

“I couldn’t stay there, not in that town where everyone looked upon me with pity, where everything reminded me of a life lost,” you allow the sun to warm your face, feeling the new life and heat that Alola brought to you, “So that’s why I came to Alola, because only this unrelenting heat could distract me from the icy cold of a broken heart.”

 

“The idiot didn’t know what they lost,” was his first response, making you turn to him with a small smile, “But even though I wish you didn’t haveta go through that, I’m happy that you made it here.” But in the back of his mind, he ran through your story, trying to piece together the entire picture based on the few things that you said. It was clear that there were other parts to it, things that only added to the hurt of your betrayal because the pain that you still held was too strong to be just that. Guzma found himself once again marveling at your strength, your ability to just pick yourself up and go, disregarding an entire life you had lived to create a new one here.

 

“Thanks,” you peck him on the cheek, sadness disappearing from your gaze as your signature loopy smile was displayed on your face. You hoped he understood why you had been so insistent that he not need anything, or anyone else but himself, you had fell into that trap and trying to claw yourself out had been one of the most trying things you had done. “Do you know why I say that you cannot need me?”

 

Guzma slides a hand into his fluffy hair, “Yeah…” But before he could continue with his thought, a familiar figure is running in their direction and tackling the both of you with a hug. There is only one person who would do that, and happened to also have pink and yellow hair, “What’re ya losers doin’ here?”

 

The shock wears off in a moment and you return the enthusiastic gesture, “Hey Plumeria, who’re you calling a loser?” Your eyes twinkled brightly as you jabbed a finger into her exposed side and chuckled at her wince away from you, “We’re heading to Malie.”

 

She falls in step beside Guzma, “I’m headin’ there too, got a job and all. What’s in Malie City that ya want?”

 

He responds, not without some trepidation, “To the Library, we think there might be somethin’ useful about the curse that we can use. If we still can’t find anything ‘bout which Tapu to go to, this might be the end of the line.”

 

Plumeria smiles, “You guys still lookin’? I’m sure you’ll find something at that place,” There’s a wistful look in her eyes as she continues, “It would be pretty amazin’ wouldn’t it? A new Po Town, filled with people, shops, and any kids that need a home.” You could tell that even though she was happy working at a salon, there was a large part of her that felt like something was missing. She was too used to being the ‘big sis’ of all those rowdy kids with genuine hearts, she missed that ordered chaos that came with being in Team Skull.

 

. . .

 

Exactly one day after the encounter with Plumeria on your way to Malie City’s Library, you and Guzma found yourself at the entrance of one of your most hated places, as well as Primarina’s: Haina Desert. This would not be fun but you had little choice but to forge on through the heat and sand that flew about trying to blind you. You had found pretty solid stuff in the Library that pointed to the Ruins of Abundance as the place you should be contacting, Tapu Bulu seemed to have been the deity that suggested the curse.

 

There had been plenty of research done on the curse, being that the rich had been living there and had the means and money to get to the bottom of what had happened. There had been limited options as to how they could have removed the curse, which included one of two. That was either to drive the Tapu away from Alola or convince the Tapu who had started it all to reconsider his agreement to the curse.

 

Once Tapu Bulu is not certain of his will to impose this curse onto Po Town, the curse would cease to have power, wiping away the torrential rains that had plagued the area for years on end. So the two of you stood, trying to ready yourself for what would be undoubtedly a harrowing journey. But every journey started with a step, and you stepped together as a united front to whatever challenges might be thrown your way.

 

Besides the never quieting winds that stirred the hot grains of sand, it was dismally empty in the desert, many creatures hiding since early morning when the sun had begun burning off the cool of the night. You were dressed in a cloak that was supposed to stop sand from seeping into every crevice of your body, but you knew that this was total bogus when the first gust of wind blew into you.

 

“Have you been to Haina Desert?” The question is natural, you were trying to pull your scarf a little closer to your face, your words becoming muffled as you inquire, “Because if you haven’t, I have a sinking feeling about this trip.”

 

“Relax, won’t ya? Your boy won’t let you down,” Guzma says, not realizing that it had been several years since he had explored this place, making his memory unreliable at best, and downright nefarious at worst. “I know this desert like the back of my hand.”

 

Several hours later, and stuck beneath a convenient outcropping while a sandstorm raged angrily you tease with a jaunty glint in your eyes, “You must be a stranger to the back of your hand,” Salandit and Pichu were curled up in your lap tired from the romping they had done but unwilling to go inside their capsules. Vanillite hated the heat, and Goomy wasn’t a fan of the sand, so they had disappeared into their Pokéballs almost as soon as you entered the desert.

 

Guzma throws you a weak glare as his Masquerain flittered about curiously, wary of the way that your Pichu constantly sent little sparks wherever he went, “Yeah rub it in, why dontcha? It’s not my fault half these places all look the same, and how was I supposed to know that a sandstorm was gonna kick up?”

 

“Well since we’re stuck here anyway, we might as well eat something to keep our energy up,” you begin unpacking the food you had brought from the Shady House in preparation for a situation like this. A potato salad and several delicious slices of egg bread were devoured, leaving the both of you in a semi-awkward silence as you waited for the storm to subside. Shifting closer to the cool rock that protected them from the sand, you sat beside Guzma who’s arm curled automatically around your shoulders as you unhesitatingly lean into his chest, so much stronger than when you had first found him.

 

A bright laugh startles him, “What’s so funny?” He sees the way that your entire self was lit up, practically pulsating with life as you tilt your head up to face him. “Are ya laughin’ at me again?”

 

You shake your head, “No, just taking a trip down memory lane. Can you believe it’s been almost a month and a half since I found you on Royal Avenue?” Your eyebrows waggle at him, “My my, how things have changed.” Taken with a sudden burst of naughtiness you let your eyes appraise his lean arms visible through his tee, corded muscles that attributed to his lithe frame. He had returned mostly to his original weight, and perhaps even slightly more toned due to the constant activity of trying to keep up with you, all while patching things up that had fallen to disrepair at the Shady House.

 

Cocking an eyebrow at your obvious ogling, he smirks, “Baby doll, are ya seriously flirtin’ with me in the middle of a sandstorm?” Guzma wondered what even went on in that mind of yours, but if it got you to lean in and press a kiss onto his lips, he was not about to complain as he pulled you on top of him. His large hands were at your waist, on top of the tank top you were wearing since you had shed your muggy cloak, as his mouth went to work with yours.

 

You could feel his tongue gently probing the seam of your lips, knowing that he wanted to deepen the kiss you refused; Guzma could _feel_ the smug curve of your smile against his mouth. Not perturbed by your usual playfulness, he slowly slides one of his hands from his waist and onto the gentle curve of your hip and waiting for you to be suitably distracted, your fingers twisted in his hair. Sensing your attention had been diverted, his hand pinches you cheekily (pun very intended) on your bottom; making you gasp in surprise.

 

Not to be outdone, you remove your hands from his unfairly fluffy hair and begin sliding them down his torso, all while his tongue tangled hotly with yours. Slipping your warm hands onto his bare skin elicits a response, a tensing of his muscles beneath your fingertips as you traced the lightly defined lines of his body.

 

When the kiss finally comes to an end, both of you are flushed with lips reddened from your earlier excursion, Guzma smiles at you, “I can’t believe we just made out under a rock, in the middle of a sandstorm. The things that you make me do.”

 

 “You act like you weren’t a very willing participant,” you sniffed disdainfully, but the cute way your hands were grasping onto his short-sleeved tee weakened it significantly. But Guzma doesn’t let the moment pass and gently tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear in an action too gentle and too sweet.

 

Seeing the surprised expression on your face, his pinkens slightly as he mutters, “Don’t look at me like that.” But that only prompts you to exclaim how adorable he was, much to the chagrin of both your neglected Salandit and Pichu.

 

“You two seem like you’re having a good time,” a stranger’s voice interrupts the clear flirting between the two of you, “Not sure why you guys thought a desert would be a good place for a date, but to each their own I guess.” The speaker is an older hiker, clearly experienced in the art of surviving with nothing more than their pack.

 

You disentangle yourself from Guzma with a sheepish laugh as you reply to the amused man, “Well we’re actually a little lost when the sandstorm hit, could you give us directions to the Ruins of Abundance? That was where we wanted to go.”

 

“What do you two want to do there?” There’s a confused look in his eyes as he appraises the two of you, clad in sand-covered clothing and looking nothing more than two silly lovebirds, “I’d advise against it, that is the sacred ground of Tapu Bulu and he doesn’t take kindly to intruders.”

 

Standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist, Guzma laughs with clear pride present, “I wouldn’t worry too much about us, my girl is the former Champ. If there’s anyone Tapu Bulu should be wary of, it’s her.”

 

There’s a new admiration in the hiker’s eyes as he evaluates who he had thought was just another young woman, “Huh, I didn’t think that the first Champion would be so… _young_.” And hearing this, your eyes nearly rolled out of your skull.

 

Hau was the youngest Champion alright? You were like an old maid compared to him but you simply took the comment with a gritted smile as you explain, “Not that young, in my twenties.” There’s a devilish look of amusement in your eyes as you continued, “Or else he,” this was punctuated with a stab of the thumb in Guzma’s direction, “Would be going to prison.”

 

The hiker laughed awkwardly as your white-haired partner struggled not to do or say something that he would regret later on, but by God, sometimes you were just insufferable. But it seemed that everyone was moving on, the hiker happy to lead the way towards the Ruins, as long as he didn’t have to accompany you inside. You two had made it surprisingly far, the Ruins appeared right after crossing another desert plain, the coolness of the cave washed over the area making the heat less stifling.

 

You clapped the hiker on the back, “Thanks! We appreciate the help.” You and Guzma watch as the man disappears into the sand before turning back to the foreboding entrance of the Ruins of Abundance. Your fingers are entwined, and your little babies have returned to their capsules, wary of the strong presence that seemed to lurk at this place.

 

The interior of the Ruins didn’t seem like ruins at all, the structure was still strong and had no signs of breaking down. There were large rectangular prisms that blocked the way to the other side of the ruins, after considering your options, you wedged your foot into the design of the tall block and began bouldering your way up. Guzma stared at you, wondering if you had some serious lack of fear for things that could very well kill you but he followed, finding there to be adequate spaces that allowed him to climb up with relative ease. Going up hadn’t been too much of a problem, but the way down seemed a little too intimidating considering the sheer drop and inability to see the grooves beneath.

 

Tossing a Pokéball into the air, his Masquerain appeared buzzing happily in the cave, “You mind giving us a hand, just make sure we aren’t breakin’ our kneecaps when we jump down.” The wide-eyed look you sent him was a mixture of surprise but also some apprehension but seeing his confidence you nod and jump while the Bug Pokémon flapped his wings furiously beneath you to slow your descent.

 

“Wow,” your exclamation of surprise was expected when you found yourself effectively levitating as the bug continued the fan the air with his wings. After touching the ground, you reach into your bag to give the hardworking Masquerain a patterned bean; when Guzma safely lands behind you, the process repeats several times until you are finally able to enter the second cavern.

 

It’s oddly silent.

 

Your footsteps seem to echo in the expansive ‘room’ as your eyes scan the surroundings for anything that might indicate danger. Seeing nothing of importance on the stone walls, your gaze returns to the rickety steps leading to the large stone statue that sat on a dais. But you can’t help but to feel an imposing presence that lay alert to your every move, watching and waiting to see what you two would do.

 

“I’m guessing we’re going to have to go up there,” you don’t hesitate on your way up though, while Guzma, on the other hand, was looking a little skittish, “I wonder what we’re even supposed to do?” Once you do reach the top, you are left staring at the sparse leafy and floral decorations and the daruma-like statue.

 

You were really at a loss; you had thought that Tapu Bulu would have been just waiting here but that clearly wasn’t the case and your mind went into overdrive trying to figure out if you had overlooked something. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the way that Guzma had been slowly approaching the statue, in a trance-like fashion before laying his fingers onto the too warm stone.

 

There was no warning for the blast of energy that came from the statue, so strong and fast that you both had no chance to brace yourself before falling off of the raised dais. Unfortunately for you, Guzma had been standing pretty much in front of you to touch the stone figure; this meant that his much larger body was about to meld you right into the unforgiving stone ground. Taking care to protect your head, you neglected to care for a certain back muscle or two that were definitely twisted and hurting something fierce.

 

Your exclamation of pain was cut short by the loud cry of Tapu Bulu that descended in front of Guzma, annoyance clear in the way that energy gushed out of it waves. You want to sit up and do something, but you were in pain, Guzma was still pinning you down, and you felt like you would be utterly useless at this moment. It didn’t take long for Primarina to explode out of his Pokéball sensing something was amiss; upon seeing you crumpled there pathetically when he appeared caused him to swing his angry blue gaze onto Guzma.

 

But the 'culprit' in question was a little preoccupied with the fact that an angry Tapu was glaring at him as soon as he stood, unlikely to grant the request that he had planned on making. He wanted to make sure you were okay, but he didn’t trust the fickle creature not to go after you when he turned his back, so he muttered to Primarina, “Take care of her, I’ll make sure we get out of this place safe.”

 

Reaching to his side for the smooth red capsule that held his closest friend for comfort he slowly speaks while backing away, “We didn’t mean to disturb you, I just want to talk, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” He could hear you trying to get up, but the sharp yelp of pain and subsequent thump tells him exactly what happened. There are worry and guilt there, scratching at his heart and making him more anxious, wanting to just get out of there to take you somewhere safe.

 

But it seemed like Tapu Bulu wasn’t looking for conversation as a sharp roar echoed in the room, bringing forth a grassy terrain that covered every inch of the ground, even beneath your still body. Strangely, you felt as if the pain had been melting away slightly as you lay on the faintly sweet-smelling grass, enough to allow you to sit up to see Guzma calling out Golispod. Watching Guzma tell the large bug-Pokémon to use First Impression and getting a hit in, you hold your breath as he tries to take the chance to talk to the now enraged Tapu Bulu.

 

“I don’t want to fight ya,” Guzma yells, trying to somehow save the situation as he explains, “Just give me a chance to explain!” But it was too late, the Tapu was charging angrily at Golisopod as soon as he had shaken off the earlier attack with an aggressive snort. Guzma, who was quite out of practise with battling was shaken by this turn of events and could only watch as his Pokémon suffered a devastating blow.

 

He was shaken, he couldn’t do this. How was _he_ of all people going to be able to fight a goddamned Tapu into submission when he could barely make it on his own, relying on you this entire time? His heart sank as he watched Golispod’s hit points dwindle to less than half, his ability triggering and returning back into his Pokéball.

 

 _What to do?_ What to do? Panic was beginning to take hold as Guzma tried to figure out what he was going to do, you were still out of commission and the Tapu didn’t seem like they were willing to let you both just walk away. He felt so defeated, so filled with shame. What kind of partner was he to let you down like this? Did rely on the fact he knew you were strong, so that he never considered the possibility that it would be you that needed him for safety. Guzma’s hands snuck into his hair as he pulled, he was so useless. _Useless_. **_Useless_**.

 

“Guzma!” Your crisp and clear voice startled him out of his maelstrom of thoughts, his head turning instinctively to where you were now standing, leaning onto Primarina for support, “I trust you.”

 

The words flowed like a golden wave of comfort through his body as your calm gaze met his filled with turmoil, telling him that you trusted him, with a meaning that hadn’t escaped him. You trusted him to watch your back, in his ability, and you trusted him to fight full force for his dreams and watch him succeed while doing it. Feeling the earlier violent emotions lull back into something else, he leveled his steely gray gaze at the still bellowing Pokémon as he reaches to his side to call out, “Scizor!” There’s a fire beginning to crackle and come to life, an aura that he himself was unaware of as he gestured to the floating Tapu with a dangerous smile on his lips, “You’re goin’ down.”

 

There’s a hint of intelligence that flashes in the domineering gaze of Tapu Bulu, a change in the way he had been attacking. It was almost as if he recognized the change in Guzma, and approved of it as the white-haired male shouted, “X-Scissor, don’t hold anything back.” The red bug Pokémon charged directly at the on-guard opponent who dodged the vicious slash with ease, darting upwards as Guzma’s lips twisted into a smirk.

 

“Go, Iron Head! Straight up,” the order is carried out perfectly, to his expectation as soon as the Tapu had fallen into his trap. His Scizor’s hardened skull smashes harshly and directly in the unsuspecting legendary Pokémon who flinches in response and giving Scizor to execute a perfect X-Scissor. Unfortunately, as soon as the moment passed, a Nature’s Madness followed by a successive Zen Headbutt knocks the unfortunate red bug out for the count, making Guzma’s clench in anger and worry as he calls out the last partner he brought with him on this excursion. “Masquerain, let’s show 'em who’s boss.”

 

Tapu Bulu only snorted in challenge as he stared down at the flittering Pokémon that betrayed some exhaustion, likely from the work he had been tasked to before. But yet there was an eagerness to the lightning-fast fluttering of large wings as the bug Pokémon that followed through with the call for Air Slash. Their wily opposition easily avoids the blow and takes the chance to begin preparing for what would likely be a devastating attack, Guzma notices and demands, “Masquerain, get outta there! Don’t let ‘em touch ya.”

 

The loyal ‘eyeball’ Pokémon flies speedily backwards, able to dodge the first attempt of the fully charged Tapu Bulu who was raring to go for another attack. Knowing that his partner would likely not have the stamina to keep running away, he tries for a, “Use Ice Beam to slow ‘em down, see how the stupid bull takes that.”

 

Too well it seems, and because Masquerain was busy launching an attack on the head of a seemingly unperturbed Tapu, it left him open to the vicious Skull Bash that knocked Guzma’s Pokémon out for the count. Panic began to set in, he only had Golisopod since he only brought half his team, not expecting any sort of battle. But he had no choice, he had to continue. He couldn’t bear to turn around and see the look of disappointment on your face when you realized just how close he was to defeat yet again. What made him think that he would be able to take down a Tapu?

 

The thought sends a jolt through him, startling him out of his earlier…was that wallowing? What was he doing? That wasn’t him, when was he ever _afraid_ of defeat, especially after he met you? Guzma wanted to laugh out loud, he wasn’t even sure who he was but there was something that had always been unyielding within that now washed away any of his previous panic. Remembering your conviction as you pronounced him a survivor allows him to straighten his spine, pulling himself to his full height as he stared right at the living legend with a dominating glint in his eye.

 

Your voice pierces through the tension as you call out, “Don’t you dare let this piece of beef jerky defeat you! Only I have access to that right.” Even Tapu Bulu manages to be distracted enough to stare at you with a positively boggled expression on their face, as if questioning if you were actually brain-damaged to insult them in such a manner.

 

Guzma drinks in your unbothered self before reaching to his side and releasing his Golisopod who seemed worse for wear, but it didn’t show in the amount of energy that surged within him. Even though it felt as if the odds were stacked against him, he wasn’t worried, in fact, as a positively wild grin appeared on his lips, he felt him become excited for a battle in a way that felt long forgotten. His gray eyes were dark with an intoxicating mixture of determination, viciousness, and enjoyment.

 

 A long moment of inaction followed, neither party willing to make the first move as unexpectedly Tapu Bulu retracted his aura, grass disappearing and all earlier traces of anger with it. It was clear to you what was happening, but Guzma was completely in the dark as the legendary Pokémon drifted closer and closer to him until he was nearly just a breath away with a soft chuff of greeting. He was confused, what the actual hell was going on?

 

“Make your request dummy,” you interrupt his musing with a voice that pretty much was saturated with equal parts happiness and pride, “You got the stu-boor-n thing to listen.” You ignore the way that the Tapu appeared to glare at you and hobble your way to Guzma’s side with Primarina’s help.

 

“I can’t believe you are cracking puns at times like these,” he muttered, not even realizing that his arm had slid itself naturally around your waist and brought you to his side in support, “You’re not scared that this guy’s just gonna get pissed and smite ya?”

 

You just shrugged offhandedly, “Tapu don’t mess with other Tapu’s kids, which you would be considered as now. Even though you’re not exactly a kid.” Your lips were quirked up into an insolent grin as you turned your words to Tapu Bulu, “You better agree to his request, or else I have to take up my broken back with a buddy back on Melemele.”

 

You could’ve sworn you saw the legendary Pokémon roll his eyes and return his attention to Guzma who had begun speaking, “I want the rain over Po Town to stop in order to begin rebuilding it.”

 

Tapu Bulu tilted their head as if questioning why he would bother with that, to which Guzma responds, calm confidence resonating from every word. “I want to create a home for kids who don’t haven’t the luxury of a home like me. Give ‘em a place to grow up into something that isn’t just more than a screw-up like me.”

To his utter shock, the seemingly now relaxed Tapu shook their head slowly and before Guzna could throw a rock at them and ask why his request was denied, your hand tightened against his. There’s a bright tone to your voice, filled with satisfaction, “See even Tapu Bulu agrees with me when I say you are no screw-up.”

 

The relief is the only thing he can focus on as he receives a nod in assent when he asks for the rain to be stopped, followed shortly by the way you fell limp at his side after surrendering to the deep ache and tiredness.

. . .

 

You almost can’t believe your eyes when the two of you had dragged your dead-tired bodies back to a sunny Po Town, doors wide open and kids waiting for your return. It isn’t until you had gotten much closer that you see a familiar policeman with a rare grin on his aged face, Nanu. You can’t stop the beam that makes itself known when you see the radiant happiness of everyone, some more muted than others, but it was surrounding the entire place and blanketing every single interaction.

 

Pip rushes to your side, worry on his little face as he sees the bruises present on your arms and legs from your dramatic fall, “You okay? What happened?” He wants to support you himself but seeing the raised eyebrow of a Guzma who seemed perfectly content with his job, he opts not to.

 

It wasn’t as obvious before, but as time passed it became more and more apparent that something had changed in the once jaded yet vulnerable gang leader, it was in the subtle ways that he carried himself. If Plumeria was present, she would’ve been able to immediately identify the change; some of his old confidence had returned, but one that was stronger than his partially feigned toughness in front of Team Skull. This was a confidence that was borne of his own actions, for his own dreams, and to protect the two most important things in his heart.

 

Po Town, including its residents, and you. Having you trust him so whole-heartedly and living up to the seemingly impossible expectations had given him the first thing in a long time that made him proud. Unlike past pride that had come from beating others down and lifting himself up, this was pride at being able to complete a goal he had set for himself.

 

Even though he hadn’t done it all by himself, that only made it better, he had not only won a fight using his skills but also with his will, recognized by the Tapu and burning so brightly within himself that he couldn’t deny its existence. He had never known himself to be able to feel so strong, fearless when defending what he had cared about, dreams that he knew he wanted to last a lifetime, if not more.

 

Guzma looked over at the way you were chatting excitedly with Nanu, your bubbly energy able to coax a few dry chuckles from the usually so stoic policeman, and he can’t hide his genuine smile. After accepting a few happy hugs from the kids, he makes eye contact with the ruby gaze of the naturally white-haired male and seeing the expectant look in his eyes he makes his way over.

 

“Didn’t think a cop would be caught in Po Town,” there’s a distinct lack of malice in the way he greeted Nanu, instead there was simply a faintly goading note that was nearly hidden with amusement.

 

Nanu raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t think you kids would actually be able to do it.” But this is followed with a softening of the deep lines on his ever-tired face as he smiles lightly, “That just shows how old I’m getting or you two are certifiably crazy to go knocking on a Tapu’s door with _demands_ and not requests.”

 

“I think _she’s_ got the crazy covered between the two of us,” he jabs his thumb behind him, knowing that you were definitely being bowled over by several of the Team Skull kids and thrown into the air. Only instead of yelling like a normal person, you had whooped and had Primarina douse the entire group with water as a form of unneeded revenge. But even then, he can’t hide the clear affection in his voice, unbeknownst to Guzma himself yet plain as day for Nanu who stifled a dry chuckle.

 

He can’t resist muttering, “You’re in way too deep.”

 

“Huh?” The wide-eyed confusion on Guzma who was usually so angry or serious was so unexpected that the reticent police officer can’t stop the snicker as he pats the shoulder of the taller male with solid strength.

 

“I’m happy for you,” there’s a lightness to Nanu that hadn’t been there in what had felt like ages; since he had watched, with no small guilt, the path that Guzma had descended to ten years ago. It seemed that you truly were a force to be reckoned with, and he almost didn’t want to think about all the trouble that you and Guzma could cause if you had put your mind to it. “You take care of her, as crazy as this might sound, I do believe that you’re the more level-headed one.”

 

Guzma’s amused laugh breaks whatever residual tension might have been, “You would be very correct.” The mutual understanding between them is so different than the strained cordiality from before that both men can’t help but to revel in the ease and comfort in this simple interaction. But this calm is interrupted when you bounce to Guzma’s side with a curious glint in your twinkling eyes.

 

“You guys weren’t saying things behind my back, were you?” Your nose was wrinkled in distaste as you continue, “I was sneezing up a storm.” The shared glance of exasperation between Guzma and Nanu was caught by you, but you elected not to say anything but felt slow-spreading happiness that things had begun to shift once more.

 

. . .

 

For once your warm body was still tucked snugly in his arms when he woke up, even though it was obvious by the bright sunlight that streaked through the room that it was way past your usual rising time. Taking this rare chance to study the way that your unguarded face revealed a sliver of your usual energy, kissable lips turned delicately upwards in a small smile that warmed his heart. Shaking his head, Guzma realized how disgustingly mushy he could get when it came to you, but then again, there were many things he had thought himself incapable of before you. But his small movement had stirred you, and you had begun to awaken and unlike him where the entire process took at least ten minutes, you were fully alert in the span of ten seconds.

 

“…Mornin’,” but your voice was still muddled with sleep and too goddamned cute for your own good, he could feel your warm cheek nuzzling where it rested on his chest. “What time is it?” Your body was still so exhausted that you couldn’t summon the ability to get up and look for yourself; the past week of hard labour trying to repair everything in the certifiably waterlogged town had sapped you of your unending energy.

 

“It’s like close to eleven probably,” there was clear amusement as he watches you yawn softly, warm breath seeping through his worn t-shirt as you rub your eyes with the heels of your hands.  “Can’t believe I’m the one wakin’ you.”

 

There is uncharacteristic whine to your tone as you complain, “It’s not my fault that I’m so tired, pretty sure it’s yours actually. I can’t believe you’re working me like a pack mule, what kind of partner does that?”

 

“And I can’t believe you’re poutin’ about it,” there’s an aggravatingly aware smirk on Guzma’s lips as he tugs at your nose in a playful movement, receiving only a withering glare and a swat on the offending hand. “Sorry, baby doll.” But the reminder of all of the material and manpower needed to really fix up Po Town casts a worried look onto his previously light-hearted expression.

 

Pulling yourself up so that you were leaning against the headboard of the bed and out of Guzma’s embrace, you voice the question that had been swimming around in his mind, “Where’re we going to get the funds for the rest of the repair job? I’m not exactly well-off enough to singlehandedly pay for everything that we need, not to mention that not even that many people know about the new plan for Po Town.”

 

“Ugh,” the pained sound is half sarcastic and half sincere as Guzma mutters, “Plumes doesn’t even know yet, we really gotta get the word out. Maybe we’ll find a generous sponsor amongst them, willin’ to throw some money away at our lil’ project.”

 

There is a quiet moment as you ponder several possibilities to procure funds before you suggest, “I could talk to the League. They’ll at least hear me out, and if I play my cards right we should be able to get enough money, including some of my savings to fill the estimate. Now—”

 

“I’m not touchin’ your money,” Guzma’s steely words cut you off, causing you to stare at him in equal parts shock and hurt, “I can’t let you do that for me.”

 

Your eyes betrayed your emotions as you said, “But we’re partners. And this isn’t just your dream, I want to see Po Town returned to something greater than its former glory. I’d be happy if—” You were once again cut off, but instead by a sudden movement by Guzma that ended with you pinned to the bed as he hovered over you.

 

“I know,” his voice was quiet, but that couldn’t mask the turbulent emotions within that was clear in his stormy gray eyes that stared unwaveringly into yours. “But baby doll, your savings are for your life, for things that you had planned for.” Before you could argue his point he continues, fingers featherlight as they brushed stray hairs off of your forehead, “I know you want to buy your cottage on Melemele, and besides, as much as I love Po Town, it’s not my home anymore.”

 

There is an apprehensive look in your eyes that melts into gentle affection as he slides his hand from your hair to your chest, above where your heart lay, “Then where is it? Your home?” You don’t need to hear his answer, and he doesn’t need to say it for it was written clearly in the way he looked at you, with such warmth that it was impossible to stay unaffected.

 

But when he leaned down, wanting to catch your soft lips in a kiss, a hand was slapped rudely over his mouth as you raise an eyebrow, “Morning breath.”

 

. . .

 

After a few days of trying to figure out what the next move was, you and Guzma finally are able to create a nearly fail-proof plan to procure both manpower as well as much needed money. Even though both of you felt a little uneasy about the fact that there would be no way of doing both at the same time, or together, there was really no other alternative that didn’t waste too much time and resources.

 

The plan was quite simple, the kids and sometimes Nanu would remain in the newly sunny Po Town with some of the still unfinished dismantlings of houses while you and Guzma headed out. Except, unlike many of the occasions before, you two were now headed in two very different directions for what seemed like an indefinite amount of time given the difficulty of the tasks. You were headed to the Pokémon League, where you expected at least a week of debate and meetings before everyone could come to a conclusion regarding the funding of rebuilding Po Town. Guzma, on the other hand, was going to be running around, probably with Plumeria for some of it and trying to round up some of the ex-Team Skull kids to see if they would be willing to return to help rebuild.

 

There was a part of you that hoped, ever the optimist, perhaps travelling Alola alone would allow Guzma to become more comfortable in his own skin, it still felt as if some days he would have spikes of doubt, frustration, and subsequent anger. But it was because he would be heading out on his own that worried you most; this worry had little to do with trusting him not to screw around with other girls or something silly like that.

 

It also had nothing to do with the possibility of him somehow relapsing into criminal behaviour, but the Island that you knew that Guzma had no way of avoiding in his little quest. The Island that harboured some of his most wonderful but also most tragic memories, as well as people he would rather eat dirt than speak with. But he would need the support of the Trial Captains and Kahunas in order to sway the general opinion of the populace of Alola, which meant that Melemele was an unavoidable stop. Even as you are about to part ways, you wonder if you should say something, words of a reminder, a warning, of good fortune? Your hand clasps his tightly as you give him some strange combination of the three, eyes searching his for any hint of anger and finding only faint unwillingness.

 

“I’ll miss you, remember that not everyone will agree or support your project, at least at first,” you paste a bright smile onto your face as you tippy-toe up to brush a kiss onto his cheek. “But I believe that the right people will give you their whole-hearted approval and help, and it is these people that deserve your attention.” You let out a small sound of surprise as Guzma practically crushes your into his chest, strong arms tight around your body as if it might be the last time he has the chance to as he mumbles something incoherent into your hair, voice too low for you to make out exactly what he was saying.

 

But when you both pull away, he looks you in the eye as he declares, "I'll miss ya too, baby doll. Don't worry 'bout me, I'll be fine." But even he can't fool himself into thinking that this was going to pass without incident. But there's a faint hopefulness that exists as he thinks about the trials that he would face along the way; it was more than just a journey to get some manpower but also one to show people who he really was.  

 

As your hands separate, the two of you headed in different directions in the final leg of this journey.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close to the end, it’s been a wild ride but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it !!


	8. Confrontations and Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to an end.

_ In which the Confrontation Happens _

 

It hadn’t been too long since he had started on his journey, but Guzma was already feeling a little off and listless about the entire endeavour. It made him realize how much you were a part of his everyday life and the familiarity of your presence that was stark in the contrast of his loneliness now. Well he was far from being totally alone, glancing to where most of his partners were wandering about as he walked through Ula’ula meadow, on his way to Plumeria’s trailer.     

 

The experience would have been significantly better if there wasn’t all the gawking and whispering that he would feel behind his back from the small troop of trail-goers. The group consisted of three young boys, hands on their Pokéballs as if worried that he would try to steal their likely pathetic partners. Guzma is sorely tempted to call the stupid kids on their evidently rude behaviour, but there’s a voice surprisingly like yours that tells him that they haven’t crossed a line yet.

 

It was true though; he wouldn’t really feel anything if he did actually beat the brats, although before he would have relished in the fear and hopelessness in their faces but now that wasn’t important anymore. They were insignificant in his life, so why expend energy on them?

 

But all of this inner musing is broken by a sharp cry, causing him to lift his gaze to see a woman step into now clearly rotten bit of wood at the side of the wooden path was. Falling quite badly off of the path and tumbling into the patch of red flora, she is scarily still before there is a groan of pain. And having gotten used to rushing to the scene of a fallen body from the days of Po Town reparation, Guzma rushes to the clearly hurt woman with no intention but to help her up and ask if she’s broken something.

 

However, before he can even get close, the earlier three adventurers have taken upon themselves to block his way, standing directly in front of him to seemingly ‘protect’ the hurt woman. Ranging from the twelvish age zone and each wearing an expression of feigned confidence, one of them says, “Stay away from her!”

 

Another pipes, “Don’t think we’ll stand here and watch you take advantage of this hurt lady,” as the last friend nods in agreement shakily. There is a muffled yelp that distracts them from the clear ‘danger’ in front of them and see a scary amount of blood on the ground near the woman.

 

“Oh my God,” there is clear panic in the voice that lets out the gasp. The three immediately rush to the woman’s side, frantically fussing and asking useless questions like “Are you okay?” “Does it hurt?”

 

At this point Guzma is unable to take it anymore and ignores the glares sent his way as he nearly shoves the kids away from the fallen woman’s side and asks, “Is that the only place you’re cut?” He points to the positively gushing leg with a surprising amount of calm as a brown-haired boy was busying trying not to retch.

 

Upon seeing the nod of affirmation from the slightly wary lady, he attempts to relax his face and trade the scowl for something less intimidating, “What’s ya name, miss? Ya got someone we can call?”

 

Her answer,pain etched in every breath, “Selene, and a call to my boyfriend who should be somewhere around here would be nice.” Guzma takes the outstretched phone and hands it to one of the still shell-shocked boys with the instructions to call as he asks, “Anyone got gauze or an extra shirt lying ‘round? We gotta stop this bleedin’ at least a little or else Selene is gonna have trouble keepin’ her eyes open.”

 

A hand passes a dark t-shirt and a conservative roll of unopened gauze that he doesn’t hesitate to tear into before reaching into his backpack for a bottle of water to wash most of the dirt that was on the surface of the cut. Moving methodically with easy movements that reassured all of the spectators, Guzma bandages the woman’s leg tightly adding the shirt when it seemed that the bandage was reddening significantly, “Are you sure that this is the only place that is hurt?”

 

“Can you keep pressure on it?” Guzma sees the running male and asks Selene, “You’re definitely goin’ to have to get to a centre to get that gash stitched up, do ya want me to call an ambulance?”

 

She shakes her head, “I think I’ll be able to hobble over there somehow; my boyfriend can be my crutch for the day.” The sarcastic quip loses its humour when it’s followed by a pained inhale as Guzma tries to help her up.

 

“Holy crap, babe? Are you okay?” There is clear panic in the boyfriend’s voice as he joins Selene’s side and helps the white-haired male with supporting her. “What happened?”

 

Guzma gestures to the significant chunk of missing wood from the walkway, “Your girlfriend had a spot of bad luck, took a bit of tumble and judgin’ from the gash on her leg, the wood wasn’t being forgivin’.”

 

It wasn’t until the boyfriend took a second look at the heroic rescuer that he does a double take, “Wait, you aren’t…that gang leader, right? What was his name, Guz-something…” his voice trailed off when he sees the obvious way that the other man was sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“Sorry to say but I am,” Guzma chuckles, faint unease in the sound as he tries to gauge the expression on the others’ faces while wondering if it was time to make himself scarce.

 

There is a short silence before Selene rolls her eyes and asks, “Like that even matters, my leg is killing me here and I would prefer if we could get to a hospital, so I don’t bleed out.” At this her boyfriend shakes his head before reaching a hand that wasn’t holding onto Selene to Guzma with an open expression on his face.

 

“Thank you for helping us,” a grateful smile emerges onto his face as he shakes Guzma’s hand firmly, “She’s right, we should head to the Centre before things turn for the worse. We owe you one.”

 

“No worries, just did what anyone ought to do,” there is a faint warmth that slid pleasantly throughout his body, “Ya sure ya don’t need help gettin’ to the Centre?” It felt so weird, not the helping people bit, but not being looked at like a monster. It made it easier to not act like one. An errant thought crosses his mind; how much of him and what he had thought was his personality had been what had people said he was?

 

 This epiphany makes him uncomfortable because he has a feeling that it rang too true for too much of his life. But distracted by the response of Selene saying that they weren’t even far from the Centre, Guzma watches them hobble away with a surprising of speed, leaving him with three awestruck adolescents that had changed from wary to practically idolizing in a matter of moments.

 

“Mister Guzma!” A bright chirp comes from the only strawberry blonde boy of the batch, “We’re sorry about earlier, that was rude of us. It’s just that we’ve heard things about Po Town and Team Skull…but that shouldn’t have made us judge you before we met you.”

 

“Yeah,” another joined in, a look of awe on his face as he exclaims, “You’re really cool, Mister Guzma!”

 

There is an embarrassed flush on Guzma’s face against his will as he runs a hand through his hair, “Who ya callin’ mister? It’s Guzma—” Just as he was about to continue with his identifying “destruction in human form” he realizes that the tag didn’t really work anymore. There’s an awkward stutter as he continues, “Yeah, just Guzma. You kids run along now, that was enough excitement for you lot for the day.”

 

“Where are you going?” One asked, curiosity evident in their voice, “We’re going to Po Town.”

 

“You guys stay away from there,” Guzma didn’t want a bunch of kids to run in out of the place, it was still under construction and having more people know about it wasn’t ideal. No resident in Po Town wanted any attention to what they were doing or else there would no doubt be dissenting voices to what they were doing. Keeping it under wraps was the consensus of everyone who know of the project, none who feel as strongly about it than himself.

 

“But Mister Guzma,” all three simultaneously whined, near identical tones of unwillingness clear as one of them protested, “We really want to take a look at Po Town, and even though at first we were kinda worried, but not anymore. Everyone said it was a bad place, but we want to see that for ourselves, we don’t want to judge it like we did to you.”

 

Guzma decided that he hated kids and pasted a smile on his face, “I get it, that’s great. But there’s nothin’ to see there anymore. See even me, the boss o’ Team Skull is leavin’, what else is there to see besides me?” He begins to saunter away, praying that the stupid teens would fall for his sad version of distraction, and seeing that they were standing unsurely, he says something that he regretted immediately, “Come on, if ya come with me I might even let ya help me out with somethin’ I’m doing.”

 

Even though it sounded sketchy as hell, all three of the troupe were too excited as they bounded behind him like a trail of puppies after their momma. And that was how Guzma arrived to Melemele, with three tails that looked at him as if he was the one truth in the world.

 

. . .

 

Things weren’t going as well as you had been hoping, judging by the unhappy expression on Acerola’s little face and the barely hidden ire on Hau’s, “They aren’t budging, are they?” Your own lips were downturned into a frustrated frown as you run through the many things discussed throughout the week. You don’t fault the rest of the League for feeling cautious about what you were suggesting but come on, clearly there was merit in rebuilding Po Town or so you had been tirelessly campaigning.

 

Beyond the wariness of Team Skull-ness of the new Po Town, there were issues that needed to be worked out. How much money would be portioned off to the project and how it should be framed to the public were all problems being pulled back and forth every day. Hau and Acerola had been easily won, the first because he held no reservations to Guzma and the rest of Team Skull and the latter because she and Nanu understood more deeply what the removal of the Tapu’s curse meant. To the petite purple-haired girl, the halt of the rain meant that it was time for the Po Town to be born anew, it was the will the Tapu so why argue with it?

 

However, Molyne, Olivia, and Kahili were more reserved when it came to their support of your plans, especially when it involved a version of Guzma that they hadn’t ever been acquainted with. Your optimism hadn’t completely faded, but you felt that time was beginning to get away from you, this was taking too long. You couldn’t possibly keep funding this extensive project, so if the League decided to not send aid, you were all screwed for a lack of a better term.

 

Acerola shrugged, faint annoyance on her face as she mutters, “They’re just being stubborn, I could feel them beginning to be swayed. It might take a few more conferences until then, so you’ll have to hold on tight.”

 

Hau grinned brightly, punching you on the arm and receiving a glare from your faithful Salandit that felt its perch being disturbed, “Don’t worry ‘bout it! Everything’ll work out, they have to give you some face considering your stint as Champion before.”

 

“But I don’t want the help to be from obligation,” there’s a serious and pensive look on your usually carefree face, “I want everyone to feel happy and proud of what Po Town will be and look forward to the final success together. It feels wrong to gain resources as a cause to my _influence_.”

 

Acerola giggles at your last bit, “Trust me, as much as we like you, we never even would’ve considered a word you were saying if it wasn’t for the fact that we ourselves are pretty invested in what’s happening to Po Town. If what you’re saying is true, there’s no reason to think that what we’re fighting for won’t happen.”

 

You grab the two of them and pull them into a warm embrace, “Thanks guys, you two are just too cute. Enough business talk, let’s go get something to eat,” you send a wink to Hau who was being smothered into an irate Salandit nibbling on his hair with vigor, “How about some malasadas?”

 

Not even a thousand angry fire-lizards could have stopped Hau from a malasada, so you three had a fun time in Malie City before the meetings and discussions would recommence the next day. Rowdy as usual, you ask about general things the League had been up to, only to learn that things had been devastatingly slow around Mount Lanilika in the past few weeks.

 

“Yeah,” Hau mumbled through a disgusting mouthful of malasada as Acerola watched with thinly veiled disgust as she nibbled at her own meal. “Dunno what’s up with that, but we haven’t had many challengers because Kahili had been working through some family stuff. We’re not sure exactly what’s going on, but she had been leaving at the drop of the hat.”

 

Acerola finished up what the Champion had been trying to say before he was distracted by the food, “Makes it a little hard to do the League when one of the Elite Four is MIA with no warning. Thankfully it isn’t summer anymore, fall is nicer since some of the kids’ll be heading back to school.”

 

“I guess that works out,” you chuckle, “You’re still home-schooled, right? Don’t tell me you dropped out because of the Elite Four business.” You read the impish cat-like smile that the purple-haired girl sent you as you listen to her reply.

 

“You think Uncle Nanu would let me get away with that?” She makes a face that causes Hau to choke on a bit of malasada filling, “Unfortunately for this bonehead, his grand-pa doesn’t have the good sense to make him go back to school. What if he grows up never knowing how to write in actual English?”

 

The aggrieved party chomps away, adamant not to acknowledge the very valid point that the smaller girl was making as he mutters, “I get it, my text speak is bad. But I don’t wanna go to school, it’s not like half the things we learn there are gonna be useful.”

 

This makes you reach over and flick him on the forehead, “Going to school exercises your brain in ways that Pokémon won’t, and it’s important that you learn how to use your brain in different ways.” You pinch his stuffed cheek a little to hard as you smile, “We can’t have Alola’s champ be just illiterate brawn, if there’s something going wrong in Alola we’re all relying on you to figure things out.”

 

“Okay, okay.” There’s a resigned tone to the forced acquisition, “I get it. I’ll tell Grandpa Hala to leave me enrolled in school, he was hopin’ I would stay in school anyway.” A bright grin, Hau’s signature grin lightens the mood as you shoot him a thumbs up.

 

“But enough about our schooling situation, we still have to figure out how we’re going to go about the meeting tomorrow morning,” Acerola’s playful voice had quieted down into something more somber as she nibbled on a corner of an unfinished malasada.

 

You take a sip of your drink before speaking, “From what I’ve gathered, things are moving along even though not as quickly as I like when it comes to both Olivia and Molayne. I mean those two I had pretty good handle of, they really want to give both Po Town and Team Skull a chance even before, after all it was clear most of them were just kids.”

 

Hau nods, cheeks round with food as he says, said food moving around grossly, “But Kahili, she’s a tough cookie to crack.”

 

“Oh my God,” there is clear disgust in the way that Acerola was speaking, nose wrinkled up cutely in a very cat-like fashion. “That’s so gross.” To which you voice your own agreement, to her statement as well as Hau’s ‘disgusting’ one.

 

“Yeah, she just came back to Alola so she only got to see the greatest damage that Team Skull caused without any of the back story,” you shrug nonchalantly, “I can see where she’s coming from, it’s kinda hard to say that an entire organization has turned over a new leaf and will be safe the way I’m saying it is.”

 

“But it didn’t take you long to change your mind,” Hau had the smuggest grin on his adolescent face, “After all you seem to—” He was cut off by a fork lifted close to his face, your hand brandishing the weapon of choice as a benevolent smile appeared on your lips.

 

“I’m giving you the chance to shut your teenage mouth before I do it for you,” you set the fork down reluctantly but can’t help but to chuckle and joke, “But if we could find an eligible bachelor in Po Town for Kahili maybe she wouldn’t be so against it.”

 

Ironically, what actually happened wasn’t that far off the mark. It just wasn’t what you expected.

 

. . .

 

Guzma really couldn’t believe he was back on Melemele, how many times did he have to be chased off this damned island for him to learn his lesson? But there’s a spark of hope that this time would be different, that this time he was going to be able to stay for as long as he wished. Especially in a quaint seaside cottage that you called your own, and what he hoped to call a home.

 

His own thoughts caused him embarrassment, there was no need to think about this now even if he missed you. A lot, a soft, wistful sigh most unbecoming of his character flutters over the evening waves as his steady partner shudders before turning his back to his idiotic trainer. A chuff of exasperation could be heard as Guzma mutters, “Don’t think I didn’t see that full body eyeroll, I don’t like this new attitude you’ve been givin’ me these days.”

 

Another full-body eye roll was directed to him, causing Golisopod to turn yet another ninety degrees with now his face turned in the opposite direction as the sea. But what the ornery bug didn’t expect was Guzma throwing himself onto him and engaging him in one of their tussles. The large isopod Pokémon held nothing back, as if taking this chance to show his displeasure at his trainer’s morose self and his inadvertent lack of attention to his ever-faithful partner.

 

Both human and bug were so distracted that they didn’t notice the familiar half-nude male that was walking straight towards them. It wasn’t until Kukui had called out, “Hey, Guzma!” That the tussle had come to an end with Guzma’s hair mussed up crazily and staring at Kukui as if  _he_  was the one being weird in this situation.

 

“What?” The surprise melts right off of the white-haired male’s face as a dead blank takes its place, hiding the strange mixture of feelings that he was feeling. “Whaddya want now? Whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it.” Besides the old surge of resentment, there’s a surprising amount of calm as he came face to face with one of the faces he would have been happy never seeing again.

 

For Guzma, Kukui was never good news. As kids, the trouble that they had gotten into were suggested more often by the now ‘straight-laced’ professor than Guzma; in fact it was difficult to say if Kukui ever truly lost that recklessness. However, that didn’t change that their paths had diverged a long time ago and that every single time they met the good professor would try to convince Guzma off his chosen path.

 

It was mildly infuriating to say the least, considering that it was his own loss against Kukui that had changed his life irrevocably. To see the ‘friend’ lecture him about the power of friendship and trust between partners when he knew what was waiting at home made Guzma realize that he lost more than his father’s recognition in that battle. He lost his only friend.

 

Kukui had betrayed him. But Guzma’s mind wouldn’t let him remember that not only did his friend have no idea what was at stake, but would’ve never intended to hurt him. Not that Kukui was particularly innocent, his own eagerness had blinded him of the troubles and suffering of his closest friend. His dream had pushed the well-being of Guzma to second place in comparison to his goals.

 

There was good history, but a lot of bad history too. So the white-haired male surprised the both of them when he nodded in assent to the bare-chested professor to his offer of residence at his lab. That didn’t make the walk there any less awkward, even if the silly moments when Kukui would open his mouth to speak only to close was quite hilarious. Guzma couldn’t help but to compare it to the easy comfort of the earlier leg of his journey on Ula’Ula with Plumeria.

 

The difference was stark; even though she hadn’t been there for a good chunk of time, it didn’t matter much. Knowing that you were working on Acerola meant that the only person he needed to talk to was Sophocles and other ex-Team Skull kids. Plumeria had been there when he went to the Observatory, providing the support that Guzma hadn’t even needed in the end; the kid had been surprisingly agreeable.

 

Even the rest of the residents of Ula’Ula didn’t take much convincing for them to accept him, granted this was helped by the promises of ex-Team Skull kids as well as the handful of people Guzma had helped along the way. The entire trip had been almost too easy, perhaps padding his confidence a little too much, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Po Town had those people’s support. Or at least tolerance.

 

He caught Kukui’s eyes on his face again and for the first time in a very long time he saw hesitance and nervousness on that usually so self-confident professor. This allowed a slight smirk to appear on his lips as Guzma tries to stifle the strange feeling of nostalgia that appears when he sees Kukui regress to his nervous teen-self. He almost physically feels some of the tension melt away, the lines of his face had softened slightly as they drew closer to your cottage.

 

He paused in front of it, reminiscing of the weeks that he had spent there with you and wondering why it felt as if it was ages ago. The small home seemed dismally empty without you and Pokémon filling it with noise and never-ending energy; he missed it.

 

Kukui didn’t even have to look in his direction to know exactly what expression that his childhood buddy was wearing on his face, “Heard ex-Champ’s busy at the League. Don’t know how the discussions have been going, but Hau and Acerola are definitely on board.”

 

Having heard dreadfully little from you and your endeavours, mainly because the connection on Mount Lanakila is horrendous to say the least. Besides exchanging some sparse voice messages when you had time and decent signal, there hadn’t been anything else which meant he was in the dark on what was going on. He couldn’t keep the eagerness out of his voice as he turns and asks, “What else ya know? Who doesn’t wanna rebuild Po Town?”

 

Kukui hides his surprise at the way Guzma revealed such a glaring weakness, he had never once allowed the other to get a good read on his feelings and thoughts, “I heard that Molayne isn’t opposed, just Kahili is a little…wary.”

 

The white-haired male snorted before muttering, “’Course she is, maybe if she didn’t have a golf club up her ass she’d be a little less. I swear she’s always hated me, and the feeling is pretty much mutual.”

 

“Well, you did give her a run for her money back in your golfing days,” the words come out unthinkingly, and Kukui regrets them immediately even before there was an expression of tightened anger on Guzma’s face. “I’m sorry man, I shouldn’t have—”

 

“Forget it,” There was a near snarl in the response as he ground out, “Should I even be surprised at this point? You really know how to say just the wrong thing at the best moment, I applaud ya.” He spins around in anger, wanting nothing more of this conversation that would more than likely devolve into some sort of fight.

 

“Guzma, just wait,” in a fit of panic, Kukui reaches an arm onto Guzma’s shoulder to stop him from storming off. Instead of angry words that he was expecting,he got a vicious blow to his cheek that left him spluttering and dazed.

 

The person who laid waste to the good professor was shocked himself at the turn of events, he hadn’t intended to punch the living daylights out of him but the touch on his shoulder had felt too familiar. Too similar to the poisonous grasp he had felt growing up, although perhaps it was the position more than anything. He watched Kukui shake his head slightly, clearly still out of it by the full force blow, “Hey man, I’m—”

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I had it coming,” Rubbing the slightly swollen jaw with a hand and wincing at the tender feeling of the flesh, he lifts a corner of his lips into a lopsided grin, “Now you’ll hear me out, won’t ya? I’ll take that as your payment of socking me in the face.”

 

Guzma stares at the deeply tanned professor with a suspicious squint as he mutters, “If that’s what ya want, but only because I feel a little bad ‘bout your face.” There’s a shred of his playfulness and snark present as he continues, “It made your already unsightly face even uglier, man, I’d better apologize to ya wife.”

 

Kukui tilted his eyeglasses down so that he could send a distinctively unamused look at the self-satisfied and smirking ex-Team Skull Boss, “Are you done?”

 

“I’m not, but your wife will be when she takes a look at you now,” Guzma couldn’t believe himself even as the jibes fell through his lips like a well-practised line. He knows that Kukui knew what was up as soon as his insult had faded because the professor had an expression that little had seen before.

 

There was a reckless grin paired with an arrogantly tilted features where dark amusement danced, “I wouldn’t be talkin’ all this when you’re looking like the way you do. Will your girlfriend still be as…interested when she finds out what you enjoyed sporting in your days of youth.”

 

“You wouldn’t.” There is both a pleasant tingle of comfort of the bantering and the faint feeling of horror as he realizes the dirt that Kukui had on him, “You wouldn’t, damn you.”

 

“That all depends on what you’ll be saying next,” the perpetually shirtless male shrugged evenly as he yanks the door to his home open, “Please, make yourself at home.” It was homey, Guzma would give it that as he studied the surprisingly neat and orderly house with little trinkets lying about that hinted at its resident’s job.

 

After settling down on the couch and loveseat in the living room, a heavy silence envelopes the two men, both with things to say but unsure how to start. Kukui blows out a loud breath as he readjusts the ice pack on his cheek, “I know I say a lot of things to you; I _said_ a lot of things I shouldn’t have after you left. But I never been able to say what I should’ve said.”

 

Guzma stared at the zigzag patterning of the hardwood floors, not wanting to straight into Kukui’s face because of the faint swirl of guilt, shame, and anger that made things so much more complicated. While he resented Kukui, it was also difficult to recall anyone else he had found true friendship with and besides the annoying bits about him, he had been a good friend.

 

If he was honest with himself, those first few months after leaving Melemele had been harrowing to say the least. He had been tempted not just once to ring Kukui up for some help or even some company but could never work up the courage or fight through his resentment to do so. And after befriending Plumeria and moving into Po Town, they had only become more and more distant, with his once-friend openly disdaining everything he stood for.

 

“I’m sorry you know,” Kukui had removed his glasses and was pinching the bridge of his nose. A telltale sign of his current stress. “I owe you more than just an apology for being such a pathetic excuse for a friend all these years. Guess I never even realized it ‘til you came back here and was avoidin’ me like the plague.”

 

“I always thought we grew apart ‘cause of you and how you changed,” there’s a dry laugh to the way he said this, a self-loathing that was too obvious to Guzma, “But seeing you hanging out with the ex-Champ and even Hala in Iki Town made me realize that I’d never even bothered reaching out. Some friend I am, eh?”

 

Guzma wanted to get angry, feel something that wasn’t this pleasant and nice and made him happy because Kukui had always been an asshole. But even his harshly trained cynicism couldn’t trump the genuine honesty that his childhood friend was showing. Ugh, he was way too old to feel this emotional.

 

“Yeah, you’re a dickwad,” there’s a twinkle of old humour in Guzma’s light gray eyes, “That’s all old news, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” There is a trace of nervousness in the way that he reached a hand to his hair and ran through the bleached locks, “Besides, I ain’t the easiest person to get along with, we’re cool.”

 

“Really?” There’s an expression not unlike an eager Rockruff on the face of a professor in his mid-twenties, “We’re like, friends? Right?” The way that the question trailed off hesitantly off his tongue could even be considered endearing.

 

There’s a smile fighting its way to Guzma’s face as he chuckles, “Yeah man, we’re friends.” It’s like a weight he didn’t even know rested on him was obliterated, and as the conversation turned to what he was doing with Po Town and Kukui’s own work he felt…happy. In a way different from being with you, or even Plumeria, it held the unreserved quality that came with any childhood friend.

 

Old jokes, memories, and the feeling of just _knowing_ what the other might be thinking; even as time passed, there were things that wouldn’t change. The telltale mark of time, and a lot of it, spent together during the innocence of youth. All of it came together in this rekindling of a friendship once thought to have been lost forever.

 

. . .

 

There was no way around it, you knew it was going to happen anyway so why were you so nervous as you lead the small expedition to the still under construction Po Town. There wasn’t anything to hide, but you felt so uncomfortable doing this, it felt as if you were bringing intruders into the place that Guzma called home. Never mind the fact that he would’ve called you silly before kissing you had you brought up this as a concern. Things were coming to an end, and it was about time too,

 

Tomorrow would mark the two weeks since you had barged in unannounced at the League, nearly half a month of discussions, push and pull, and passive aggressive debates that you were tiring of. You just wanted it to be over, and this would definitely be the last chip you could add to tilt the situation in your favour.

 

But that would depend on the residents of Po Town. And how construction was currently going.

 

. . .

 

When you arrive, you had expected only the handful of kids you had left before going to the Pokémon League with the addition of Nanu and Plumeria if you were lucky. But what you got was over thirty people, mostly teens all working together with some older people repairing houses and cleaning the graffitied stone walkway. The hustle and bustle of bodies paired with the bright sunshine and buoyed by laughter worked to create something that would stun even the most skeptical of hearts.

 

This was what a town should be, how Alola should be. And somehow you knew that this must have been Guzma’s hard work, he had clearly been spreading the word and recruiting his old ‘family’ to help with repairs. But what you don’t think even _he_ would believe what was happening here.

 

“Wow!” Hau began waving enthusiastically to a few people he knew while Acerola had bounded over to her doting uncle. It didn’t take long for the those working to clue in that there were some important visitors, resulting in a certifiable swarm of people flocking to the Elite Four.

 

Things seemed to go almost miraculously, you could see that Molayne and Olivia would have no argument against the support for Po Town’s rebuilding. In fact, only the most cynical would be able to look at this rebirth and feel nothing; unfortunately, Kahili was once such individual.

 

Her face was tightened with disapproval as she eyed the half torn down buildings and the bits of graffiti that hadn’t been scrubbed away. The entire place reeked slightly of wet mold and those members of Team Skull were skulking about nervously at the arrival of these high-up visitors. She had been glaring decidedly at the group of wary teens until a flash of childish features and brown hair stunned her silly.

 

Without even a word of warning she had sprinted right towards where the Team Skull kids were, shoved through them unceremoniously right to the now cowering brown-haired little boy. There was a moment of tense silence as Kahili reached to grasp tightly onto the slight boy’s shoulders in a lightening fast movement. But before she had time to do anything else, you had seemingly materialized out of nowhere to pull Pip from her grasp and push him behind you like an overprotective mama-bird.

 

“What are you doing?” Even though you weren’t much larger than the boy you were currently protecting, you emanated enough deadly anger to push most people several feet away. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“Philip, come here and explain what’s going on right now!” There’s a shrillness to the usually so calmly composed golf professional, eyes filled with what could only be described as panicked relief.

 

Hearing this seemingly threatening demand, your eyes narrowed even more as your lips set into a certifiably dangerous smile, “I suggest you word that more pleasantly, Pip doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.” But feeling the small tugs on your sleeve makes you turn to see him giving you a reassuring grin as he mutters a mind-blowing detail.

 

“That’s second cousin Kahili,” there’s an expression of doe-like happiness as he explains, “She’s really nice, I think she just wants to know what happened to me after grandma’s hospitalization. I didn’t know she was back in Alola.” And upon determining that all was safe and good, you back off and allow the nearly worried sick Kahili to give little Pip a tight hug all while asking a fountain of questions.

 

“I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me. I like it here.” The rest of Team Skull, you included, elected to leave the reunited family to catch up while you ducked into the still mostly untouched Shady House. You look at the efforts to clear out the various boxes, broken furniture, and trash with a critical eye. It seemed strange for the place to have some semblance of care put into it.

 

“You guys didn’t work too hard clearing this place up did you,” there was a suspicious edge to your tone as you took note of the shattered chandelier in the middle of the luxurious staircase.

 

“Well, it felt weird y’know,” one of the blue-haired boys muttered, a shy flush appearing on his face as he scuffed a toe onto the raggedy carpet, “This place has always been Boss’ we wanted to wait ‘till he got back before we really started workin’ on it.”

 

You scanned the rest of the faces to see identical expressions of agreement as well as some furious nodding. It was understandable, not that Guzma would’ve said anything in argument if the place was cleared up, but you thought it was something that he should be a part of. This had been his home for a near-decade, it wouldn’t be right to tear into it without him; Guzma deserved the chance to say good-bye.

 

You missed him so terribly. As much as you denied it, being a fiercely independent person, you felt as if part of you had been wrenched away forcefully by the lack of Guzma by your side. You felt like almost guilty when you had lectured him about not needing others because you had struggled with the opposite issue.

 

You knew that you had locked a part of you away after being betrayed so crushingly, you had difficulty putting yourself back into a position to be hurt. Vulnerability was something that you hated for a passion, you refused to let yourself show it or even feel an inkling of it. A wry smile appeared on your lips when you remembered the first time you allowed your weaknesses to show after finally healing.

 

It was with Guzma.

 

. . .

 

Guzma could not believe that this was happening right now. He was definitely not sitting squashed into a booth by a shirtless Kukui and sitting directly across from Ilima and Hala at the Malasada Shop in Hau’oli City. It had barely been a few days before he had been muscled into this impromptu ‘meeting’ with the ‘leaders’ of Melemele Island, and _here_ of places.

 

“So, um, did you all want to discuss something?” The delicate features of the pink-haired male were twisted into a slightly uncomfortable smile. Guzma almost took it personally until he realized that Ilima was being basically bowled over by the ever rotund Hala. “And _why_ on this beautiful island did we have to do it in a Malasada Shop?”

 

Guzma sent an appreciative look at the pretty boy, eyebrow raising, “I agree wit’ bubble-gum here. Didn’t think the day would come.”

 

After digging an elbow into his friend’s side, the good professor laughed boisterously, “Now, now you two. Don’t be such downers, we’re here to discuss Po Town and both Hala and I would like to do so with full stomachs.”

 

Now Guzma’s ears weren’t particularly sharp, but he could’ve sworn that the slight and beautiful male in front of him muttered a very poisonous, “Which you could do without.” Hm, this kid was really growing on him by the minute. He could get behind passive-aggressive hidden by delicate beauty.

 

“Unless you two called us out here to tell me that you were going to be withdrawing all support from our project, there’s no point in this,” a self-aware smirk made its appearance as he scanned the faces of both Kukui and Hala, “So whaddya say we cut this meetin’ short. Hm? I’ve got places to be.”

 

It was pretty obvious from the outset that Kukui and Hala just wanted an excuse from him to stay a little longer, catch up like they so claimed. He didn’t mind hanging out around Iki Town or even chatting with Kukui about Pokémon Theories, which almost always devolved into some sort of fight. In fact, it was probably one of the best stays he’s ever had on this blasted island, but he wasn’t going to be pushing his luck. He had only come to this ‘outing’ because he hadn’t been able to get in contact with Ilima.

 

A frown was etched onto Hala’s face as he glowered, “Sure, but you don’t have Ilima’s approval, do you. So, therefore, stop whining and eat.” He then proceded to dig into his enormous malasada with a gusto that surprised no one.

 

“Nope he’s got it, anyone who wants out of this place easily has my stamp of approval,” Ilima quickly added, waving over the waitress and gesturing for the bill, “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

 

“What?” Kukui exclaimed, “Seriously? You’re just that confident in the fact that clearly, Team Skull has changed, that Po Town should be rebuilt, that our once terror-inspiring Guzma has turned over a new leaf?” He ignored the indignant sound of protest that came from the said terror-inspiring individual.

 

There was only a dramatic eye-roll sent in his direction, “Do you think I’m daft? You two know him way better than I do, if you are in support of his project, I don’t have a reason to object do I? Besides, even if I did, I fear that my well-being would be compromised.” Ilima had finally squeezed his way past Hala and was walking towards the cash with a salute, “Good luck bug boy.”

 

The ‘nickname’ caused a frown to crease Guzma’s earlier relaxed expression, “Guess he didn’t like to be called bubble-gum. Haven’t heard that one in a while.” But the relief of finally being able to leave Melemele and find you was the only thing he could feel; it was finally over. Granted, after you reunited there would still be a lot of work to be done and Poni Island to visit, but that seemed insignificant to the fact that you would be together again.

 

. . .

 

After hearing Kahili apologize and thank you for the millionth time you decide that you’ve heard enough, “Honey, you can stop now. Pip is a good kid and I wouldn’t have let him just lie out there in the rain for who knows how long. If you decide to support our rebuilding of Po Town, then consider the debts cleared.” You watched as the blue-haired woman wiped away a stray tear while still clutching a tired-looking Pip to her chest.

 

“Okay, okay.” She nodded in answer and finally released her death grip on the young boy who bounded back to your side, “It’s just I’ve been so worried since I came back from nationals; Papa told me that Pip was missing because of his cousin’s horrendous actions. I’d said I would keep an eye out for him, but I wasn’t there when he needed me most.”

 

“It’s okay cousin Kahili, everything ended up okay,” Pip smiled brightly, brown hair rustled by the wind, “Because there was Po Town, there was Mister Guzma, and—”

 

“Yes, yes,” you rub his head before leaning towards his ear and muttering, “You can stop laying it on so thick now, consider your phone debt paid.” The cheeky smirk he sends you is equal parts adorable as it is worrying. Pip’s about to be corrupted by all the ‘older siblings’ he’s had these past few weeks.

 

Well, considering the huge favour done by you and Po Town, there was no way Kahili could withhold her support any longer, so it was with happy waves and smiles that you all sent off the visitors from the League. Things were finally beginning to wind down, and since you were done you might as well drop by Melemele. Not only was Guzma there, but you also could take the chance to clean up what would be a very dusty house from disuse.

 

Considering the cryptic message he sent you last night, something about malasadas and Ilima, you couldn’t wait to ask him all about his journey thus far. From what Plumeria had said since the last time she dropped by the League to ‘have some fun’, Guzma was having a grand old time being a good Samaritan and gaining quite a following of admiring ducklings. You wanted to tell him about what you had seen here today, the product of his hard work.

 

. . .

 

Guzma’s luck _never_ held, as a rule of thumb things could never go right. Sure it would get infinitely close to being right, but there would always be some sort of snarl or issue that would screw everything up. Sometimes it was small in the grand scheme of things, other times it was so bad that it didn’t just push him back where he started, but even backwards some.

 

But this time definitely had to take the cake, it was a sleepy afternoon with few people out in the unforgiving heat as Guzma hiked over to the harbour to catch a ferry back to Ula’ula. Kukui had tagged along, claiming that he needed to see the town for himself to believe that the curse had been lifted. He didn’t argue with the professor, the week that he had spent living in the lab had smoothed over their relationship until it was a semi-normal friendship.

 

Granted Kukui had a big mouth and he wasn’t exactly the calm sort, which meant that there would be at least one earth-shaking battle happening per day. But it wasn’t as if Guzma minded, in fact, he himself had some fun wrestling with Kukui who had become quite adept at the sport.  

 

The stroll wasn’t long and they were almost home free when the problem barreled right into them, one meaty hand in the air and aimed towards Guzma’s face. He was able to move so that the blow only glanced his cheek, but it still stung something fierce and he fought the urge to rub at it.

 

“You ungrateful bastard, what are you doing back here. I thought it was clear that I never wanted to see your disgusting face,” the poisonous words stung more than the slap to the face, but Guzma would never admit it. “Trying to run around helping people.” He spits onto the ground, “Bit late to make your father proud, don’t you think.”

 

Kukui was about to say something, likely little more than a rightly deserved insult to the horrifying work of a man in front of him when Guzma holds up a finger to stop him. Shaking his head and slowly breathing in a deep breath, he considers his next move.

 

There’s nothing more in him that just wants to sock the pathetic man he had the fortune of calling father in the face, it would be so satisfying. But that was what that man wanted from him, he wanted Guzma to lose control to prove his point, so denying him that chance was going to be even more satisfying. His jaw clenched as he remembered what you had said to him, that you trusted him.

 

Guzma knew now he was better than his father, and even if he was as disgusting of a human being, he at least knew he was starting to get better. But the white-haired man in front of him had chosen to let poison brew and fester in himself, stemmed from his failure in golfing. “I am not doing any of this for you. It’s for Po Town.”

 

“You mean the asshole of Alola, filled with the filthy waste of the entire region? That place is fitting for someone like you,” his father snarled at him, spit flying aggressively into the air. Even though the words shouldn’t have affected him, they still stung and hurt.

 

All Guzma had every wanted to most of his life was to have recognition for what he was capable of, and what he could do. Perhaps that was why he was also easy to exploit. He was starved for appreciation and acceptance, both of which should have been freely given from his friends and parents. Yet they had eluded him for much of his life, making those things precious, almost as precious as you were.

 

He never thought he was a self-less person, but was it too much to ask for his father to see him other than a waste of space? For a moment Guzma was baffled by his own calm when confronted with one of the most spectacularly insulting moments of his life, delivered by his father no less. But it was true, he didn’t really feel the out of control anger that always roared to life when hearing such debasing accusations.

 

With a start, Guzma realizes that he has changed, while before he would have been furious, now he was little more than disappointed and upset. Perhaps it was because he had truly believed those things his father had claimed. Even though he didn’t believe he was necessarily good, but he knew deep in his heart that he would never treat children the way that his father treated him.

 

And that was good enough. He wasn’t a good guy, but he was at least better than the piece of work who fathered him.

 

. . .

 

Perhaps it was a good thing you had chosen to take the ferry to Melemele because it dropped you very conveniently in front of the stand-off that Guzma was part of. You want to rush to his side, but you restrain the urge when you see the level, albeit strained, expression on his face. You join Kukui who was looking very uncharacteristically frantic as he struggled to decide whether to interfere, run to get help, or just have a meltdown.

 

“Thank the heavens you’re here, can you help with that? I’m about to lose my mind,” the frazzled expression he was wearing was slightly heartening. It was clear that he and Guzma had worked past their previous issues from the evident worry in his dark eyes.

 

You look towards the father and son duo with a sliver of anxiousness revealed in your expression, but you steel yourself and shake your head, “That is not my fight, and besides,” you smile confidently, “Don’t you trust him?”

 

“I do, I do,” Kukui agrees before his voice turns scarily harsh, “But it’s that sick bastard that I can’t trust, I swear if he tries to lay a hand on him again…I’m not standing idle like I did so long ago, that’s for sure.”

 

You clap him on the back, voice forcibly light, “I think Guzma knows that, and you’ll have to get in line to get a hit that sorry excuse for a father.” But none of this is able to mask the nervous way your hands were twitching to the capsules clipped to your hip, a tell-tale sign of your own unease.

 

There was nothing you should do in this moment, this was his moment and you would do what you did best, give your never-ending support. Even though you didn’t want him living _for_ you, that had nothing to do with providing a shoulder to lean on. You had been quite averse to relying on others in any way, but you learned from Guzma that this was no weakness, but rather a strength. You took a deep inhale to steady your emotions as your attention was taken by Guzma’s cold voice.

 

“What I do is none of your concern,” Guzma stared into the venomous eyes of his father, a similar expression of icy chill on his face, “You’ve wiped your hands of me long ago, so I don’t see why ya so interested in what I’ve been up to. I don’t care what you think.”

 

The aged man glowered, face reddened with both anger and embarrassment, “Is that any way to speak to your father? Don’t forget, _boy_ , I raised you—”

 

“So now you want to be my father?” His fury was showing through in his voice as he rounded on his ‘father’, “What ‘bout all those times you said I ain’t no son of yours, that I ain’t worth nothin’ to ya? And don’t even speak about raisin’ me, my _mother_ raised me. Not you, all you knew how to do was throw your weight ‘round.”

 

He could see the blow coming, but unlike every single time before he felt absolutely no fear at being harmed, he was just saddened. Things were different now, he thought wryly as he easily caught the fist in a hand, “You can’t hurt me anymore.” He could see the shock on the older man’s face, but unlike before where he would’ve relished the expression Guzma was just tired.

 

Letting go of his father’s fist he begins backing away, feeling strangely empty and subdued; it was the closing of a chapter. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case for his father who had begun screaming at him, “Who do you think you are? You’re just a low-brow gang leader, who’s got _nothing_ , nothing! You won’t get a penny from be when I die, I have no son to give my inheritance to.” Seeing the lack of expression on this man who had changed so much from the son he thought he knew, a quiet fear began growing within the retired golf player.

 

He needed to be in control, he needed to make Guzma understand that _he_ held the keys to his life, “You’ll never amount to anything, pretty soon your little girlfriend’s going to pack her bags and leave. That’s why she’s with you right, because she can get her grubby little hands on my money—” He wasn’t able to finish because Guzma had lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him easily to the air.

 

“I dare you to say another word,” your partner’s gray eyes were such a steely gray and so sharp it could nearly draw blood. “Don’t you dare speak about her that way, she is worth more than a million of you. She is everything that is right in the world, she is the sunshine that Alola stands for and it would do you well to speak of her with respect. I don’t care if ya curse my name, but,” here a feral grin emerges on Guzma’s features. One that sent chills down the spines of everyone who was watching, but most of all the elderly man still dangling mid-air. “Ya say one demeaning word about her and consider your cushy life forfeit, do I make myself clear?”

 

Guzma doesn’t wait for an answer and just about tosses him down before stalking away from where the scene had occurred. There was a part of him that felt guilty for the way that he snapped at the end, but hearing him talk about you like he even had the faintest idea who you were infuriated him beyond reason. He doubted his father would come near him again, simply because Guzma was confident that he would be able to hold his own against him.

 

He was so lost in thought and distracted that he didn’t notice your petite figure barrel right into him, he almost lost his balance, but the familiar feeling of your arms steadied him. Your exuberant face washed away much of the moodiness and sadness he had been feeling, an affectionate smile lifting the corners of his lips.

 

Your strong arms encircled his waist as you muttered, “I’m so proud of you, you’re so strong,” into his chest. Your eyes shined with emotion, so much admiration and sweetness in your gaze that Guzma could feel the barriers he had put up against his father dissolve. Letting his head rest on your sun-warmed hair, he breathes in your soothing scent and lets himself relax.

 

. . .

 

You had a private bit of the boat to yourself, there was no one on the deck save for you and Guzma. Both of you had your arms against the railing, however his were braced around you as you leaned into his warm, strong chest. It had been obscenely quiet during this trip, you weren’t sure what to say, you wanted to know what he was thinking and feeling but didn’t want to pry.

 

Hesitantly you turn so you can look up at him, his very distracting angular jaw right in front of you as you ask, “Are you okay?” in a small voice quite unlike you.

 

As if he had been startled out of his thoughts, jolts and looks down at you before grinning a little painfully, “Probably, I don’t know. Besides, being okay is overrated.” He expects you to giggle, but you were startlingly serious as you take in his answer.

 

You turn so you can properly look into his stormy eyes, clearly swimming with his thoughts and emotions, “I’m proud of you, you know?”

 

Guzma rolls his eyes dramatically, “Yes, so ya told me. Dunno why ya felt the need to say it again.”

 

“Because I think you don’t believe me,” your eyebrows were pushed into a frown unsuited for your pretty face, he fights the urge to smooth out the lines. “Guzma, I’m so proud to call myself your partner, or girlfriend, or whatever name you like the best. Do you know why?”

 

He knows you’re trying to be serious, but there’s always been and will always be a part of him that was suspicious and wary of any sort of compliment. But for you, he was going to hear you out, “I’m assuming you’ll tell me.”

 

An annoyed huff left your lips before you spoke, voice slow and calm. “I’m proud of you for being able to walk away, for believing that you are more than what people say. I’m proud that you were able to stand your ground from someone who had been encroaching on your identity for years. And lastly, I’m beyond touched that you would defend me. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a peaceful defence, but it did get me a little emotional.” Your small warm hand reached his cheek as you smile beautifully at him, “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, and thanks for being proud of me I guess,” Guzma smirks at the way you wrinkled your nose at his offhand response. He continues on, slightly more serious, “I guess it’s just hard to be proud of yourself when ya don’t even know who ya are.”

 

There’s a bright giggle that makes Guzma’s heart go a little quicker followed by your two arms that wrapped themselves around his neck. Your eyes _glowed_ with something not too far from love as you say, “You’re my boy, Guzma. And as for everything else…” You tippy-toe up so you can get a little closer to his stunning gray eyes, “Isn’t finding out who you are life’s greatest adventure? You have your entire life to figure out who you are, I just hope you’ll take me along on the ride.”

 

You watch as Guzma smiles, the first _real_ smile, one that came without him realizing it and it lit up his face in a way that made your heart clench. His answer takes no time at all, “Baby doll, do ya even need to ask?” And before you could get some quip in, he seals your lips with his in a heady breath-taking kiss.

 

There is a warmth that spreads from your chest all the way to your fingers and toes, one that you know means that you’ve found your home. Sometimes it was easy to get caught up in the fine details in life, since into them and have trouble looking at the big picture. But in that moment, you could only see the big picture, one that’s changed since the last time it came to mind because there was a tall white-haired bad boy with a heart of gold there. It’s easy to list things that could go wrong, or even things that _were_ still wrong with you two, but what fun would that be?

 

His warm mouth was making it difficult to think, as your hands moved into his hair and ruffled the soft strands between your fingers. The cold bar of the deck dug into your back, but Guzma had slid his lean arms around your waist to pull you flush against his tall frame. You let out a soft sound of contentment and pleasure when he deepens the kiss further, mind beginning to lose all semblance of thought.

 

It was much more interesting to look towards the future and anticipate what it might bring. However, you knew whatever adventures await, regardless if Guzma was by your side, they would always end here. At home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god guys. 
> 
> It's finally done! Very much unedited, and maybe I'll get around to doing that in the future but for now...IT'S DONE! It's been a crazy journey, and I'm so happy that you all took it with me. I hope you enjoyed the story, the very first full-length story I've ever written. 
> 
> As you may have noticed, there is space for one more chapter, which will be the epilogue~! Just a couple of loose ends to tie up before the summer ends. 
> 
> Thank you!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perfection never meant happiness.

Epilogue: 1 Year Later

 

“Oh my God, will you  _get_ up already?” Your exasperated voice came from the kitchen of your cottage, echoing loudly in the mostly empty house. “I swear if you aren’t out in the next five seconds Snorlax _will_ be joining you on the bed.”

 

Hearing this threat, Guzma jolts out of the blankets and pushes away the Salazzle who had been happily chewing on his hand, the poisonous lizard sent him a grumpy hiss before lumbering out. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he quickly throws on a pair of sweats before stumbling into the bathroom.

 

“I hate ya,” his hair was still stuck up crazily, certifiably the cutest bedhead known to man, having not enough time to fix it up while he had been washing up. “Ya wake up at the ass crack of dawn.”

 

You glance over your shoulder, bright eyes rolling in faux annoyance, “I already let you sleep in, you’re going to be late to the party thrown in your own honour.” You turn back to the crêpes on the griddle and smother the giggle when you hear his frustrated groan and subsequent flop onto the couch.

 

“Ugh,” the sound was muffled due to the fact his face was currently burrowed in your couch’s throw pillows, “Don’t remind me, who’s idea was this anyway? There’s literally nothin’ to celebrate.”

 

You set the food onto the table before making your way to where he was now laying reclined horizontally on the couch. Without so much batting an eye, you swing a leg over him to straddle him and answer the suggestively raised eyebrow with a teasing smile of your own. “What did I say about the self-deprecating comments? I don’t want to hear them today of all days, only positive thoughts.”

 

Guzma’s large hands came over top the exposed length of your legs and being that you were only clad in a pair of shorts and t-shirt, there was plenty of room. A slow smug smile emerged on his lips as he looked up at you with hooded eyes, “It’d be easier to think positive thoughts if something… _positive_ happened now.” You could practically hear the purr in his voice, and it was really hard to fight back the shiver of awareness that it caused, but he wasn’t going to beating you at this game.

 

At least not today.

 

Your lips were hooked into a sultry smile as you reached a hand to rest on his very naked chest, fingertips lightly tracing the now defined musculature and allowing your nails to scrape delicately against his sensitive skin. “Hm? I take it you have some ideas?” You lean in so your lips are next to his ear, warm breath tickling his neck, “Care to enlighten me?”

 

“I have a few,” as soon as the words left, his lips had occupied themselves on your neck, soft kisses warming the skin there as you let out a sound of pleasure when he gently nipped at it. “Of course, we might be a bit late for the party…but I’m sure you won’t mind.”

 

He seems very determined about this, and you were getting more and more sidetracked as time went on; this would not do. You pull at his hair slightly, encouraging him to move from your neck to your lips, making it easier for what you were about to do. The kisses now were languid and sweet, movements slow and purposeful as he slowly became more and more lost in your soft pliant lips.

 

Which allowed you to—

 

He jerked back with a yelp, looking very betrayed, “Didja just bite my tongue?” And even though he wanted to feel upset, the look of guilty satisfaction on your face made it quite difficult.

 

“Well that’s what you get for trying to seduce me into missing your own party,” you hmphed and crossed your arms over chest, still very much seated on Guzma. Upon noticing this, you get off of him, “And stop pouting, you were doing a very good job of…convincing me. But we can’t miss this, okay?”

 

A giddy expression enters his face, making him much younger than his twenty-five years, “So then, does that mean?”

 

You roll your eyes, “You act like I _want_ to say no. But that’s enough, get your head out of the gutter and to the table, there’s breakfast and they Po Town. We’re already running late.” But that doesn’t prevent the happy smile from adorning your features and your heart to skip a beat when he gives you a smug wink.

 

. . .

 

It doesn’t take too long for the two of you to get to Po Town, choosing to hitch a ride using your Pagers and arriving on Ula’ula in only half an hour of flying. You usually liked to take the ferry instead since it dropped you right at Malie City where you had a gig at the Kantonian-Styled Gym. It wasn’t surprising that they were more than happy for you to pick up a shift or two at the place, being that you were actually from the region and had more than enough experience with battles. Not only that, but it gave you a chance to train with the babies that were still trying to collect from all over the Alola region. Your Salandit seemed quite gung-ho about the arrangement, as was your now evolved Pikachu.

 

It also had the added benefit that Guzma had his own job on the same Island, allowing the two of you to go to and from together, there was little better than seeing his face after a long day at work. Even though you did work at the Gym, it usually didn’t require extensive hours like being the Champion, which left you enough time to fool about and help with other miscellaneous tasks. 

 

It was funny to see how Guzma had a more stable job, which involved an almost strict nine to five schedule at the renamed Shady House, as C.K.U.L House. Centre for Kids, Us, and Love which was more than a joke than anything serious. The official name was simply a badly ‘hidden’ nod towards the history of the Youth Centre that stood in its place, a testament to the growth of a Town and the person leading it. When you arrive at the gates of Po Town, now perpetually opened and one overbearing steel walls covered with brightly painted art.

 

The moment you and Guzma walk into the bustling town, you’re greeted with the same kind of warmth you were always welcomed with. Granted, there was just that extra bit of fervor the vendors and passersby had for Guzma, but you couldn’t care less and felt only a bit prouder. If you had told Guzma what you were experiencing today a year or two ago, not only would he think you were mocking him, but he would think you were absolutely insane.

 

Now he only thinks the latter. He watches the way you stick your nose into every single vendor’s stall, no one even batting an eye at your antics and even accommodating your exuberant energy. The houses that once lined the main walkway have been renovated into open-air shops, smaller residences, and one very pink and yellow hair salon. You don’t even bother looking in since Plumeria was still in the Youth Centre, crazily sending you texts that they weren’t ready yet.

 

You send one saying that you couldn’t exactly say that he should delay after rushing him out of the house this morning. You didn’t think you would regret turning down his offer this morning, but here you were, wondering if there was any other way to drag the time out slightly. But it turns out that it wasn’t even needed because a familiar trio has appeared in front of both of you with stubborn expressions and demanding a rematch of the rematch three days prior.

 

“Yeah, sorry—” But before he could finish his explanation that he had plans for this morning, you had shoved him along with a cheeky grin. You winked at the equally mischievous expressions on the young boys’ faces and send a reluctant Guzma along to engage in what would likely be a draggy battle. You take this chance to dart into the Youth Centre with a pep in your step, a little excited to see the chaotic mess that was most definitely inside.

 

And it was most definitely a mess, the streamers were literally _everywhere_ as well as popped balloons that littered the floor like confetti. You were almost certain that there were as many balloons broken as they were whole, and a good number of them just flying through the air having come loose of a yet another kid’s hold.

 

“Plumeria, I do not envy you one bit.” You give her a hug as soon as you see her, in the middle of trying to control the chaos with only varying amounts of success. Her makeup was looking a little smudged, likely from rubbing at her face or even just running into the many people in the room. She sags onto your shoulder with a dramatic sigh, head drooping and throwing a hand over her forehead as she bemoaned the current state of affairs.

 

“I can’t believe that ya left me to take care of this by myself,” her yellow eyes rolled to the back of her head, “You absolutely suck, take some responsibility for ya boy.” She jerked away from you to yell at a kid who was about to slide down the staircase and into a pile of balloons before storming off to give her a lecture. You scan the room for the one familiar face, and upon making eye contact, the now taller Pip was bounding happily towards you like an overeager puppy.

 

“Pip!” Your eyes twinkled as you gave him a warm hug, “How’ve you been? Things going okay for you?” There’s a happy expression on his face as he nods, smile wide on his maturing features as he trips over his words to explain what’s happened in the last week.

 

But upon being interrupted by one too many flying balloons, he turns away from you to send a thunderous demand, “Stop!” And the once chaotic battleground was calmed, all faces were turned toward him as if waiting for his next request.

 

You raised an impressed eyebrow after seeing the once shy boy, with the aid of Plumeria, instruct the group of rascals to finish the decorations and preparations. Upon seeing the return of progress, you also throw yourself into the process while cracking a joke and chatting with anyone who happened to be working nearby. The task of complete in astounding little time, and not a moment too soon as one of the boys had mentioned Guzma had started looking for you.

 

A mischievous grin appeared on your lips as you leaned into Plumeria’s ear and told her the last-minute plan you had just thought up.

 

. . .

 

 By the time Guzma realized that you had been gone for too long, he was already neck-deep into the third battle with the brown-haired member of the trio. The earlier two had ended in the predicted loss of the still greenhorn fellows that had tried to drag out the encounter for as long as they could. Just as he polished off the last of the ‘challengers’ his cell chimed with your custom alert sound, a deafening snore of the one and only Snorlax.

 

“Okay, I’ve spent enough time entertaining y’all,” he waves them off as he responds to your text, fingers flying over the screen and not noticing the devious grins on all three of their faces as the slip away. You had told him that the party was already in full swing and waiting for him in the main foyer, where everyone was waiting for the reason for the event.

 

He could almost envision the faux-disappointed expression on your face as you shook your head and bemoaned that only he would be late to his own party. Walking towards the repurposed mansion that he had called home for nearly a decade, Guzma can’t help but feel the wave of nostalgia and bittersweet emotion that this place would always bring. He wondered if the him from a few years ago would envision such a Po Town existing, filled with a signature Team Skull chaos, but thriving all the same.

 

When he pushes the heavy doors open to reveal you standing all alone in the heavily decorated main hall, he feels as if he’s lost his footing. But before he could even voice the question, “Where is everybody?” A count of maybe fifty people burst from various places around the venue with loud pops of streamers and screams of “Surprise!”. As much as he would deny it, the sudden explosion of noise startles him into taking a step back, a look of genuine shock across his features. When he sees the silent giggles, you were smothering at his reaction, his gray eyes sharpened and narrowed while you simply stuck your tongue out at him. But before he could call you out on your childishness, a strong arm had looped itself around his neck before pulling him into a tight embrace.

 

“Yo, thanks Boss,” Plumeria’s voice was loud, clearly speaking for the crowd of kids ranging from seven to twenty-somethings. “Even though they don’t usually say it, that is one thing that all these ragamuffins feel on a day-to-day basis.”

 

“We love you too, Big Sis,” a voice called out from the crowd, making everyone laugh a little in agreement, watching as a rarely seen pink appeared on the usually so stoic woman’s cheeks. Holding up a fist and shaking it, Plumeria yells, “Enough out of you, it ain’t my party yet, so keep ya sappy feelings to yaself!” There is a pause before the once mostly quiet crowd becomes rowdy once more.

 

She turns back to the now distracted Guzma who was watching you grab Pip and pull him down to your admittedly short height to whisper something that gave you that wicked smirk that usually brought chaos. Things never changed, she thought as she tightens the hold of her arm around his neck, “Stop making goo-goo eyes at ya girl and listen ta the lame speech that these even lamer kids prepared.” But before she could even get another word out to the thoroughly distracted crowd, the attention spans of kids already at their limit.

 

Just as she was about to tell Guzma that he would be receiving a heartfelt letter version of the speech, the piñata hanging beside the chandelier had broken and rained candies upon the group of them.

 

Plumeria gave up talking, and it was all in good time too because standing between candy and fifty children was never a smart choice. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t relish the lack of decorum Guzma was shown as he was shoved from side to side by the kids he took under his wing. Even though he was quickly shoved out of the undulating mass of children, her gaze followed him as walked to your side, where you had been abandoned by Pip who was diving headfirst into the sugar frenzy.

 

Guzma’s face had never been kind, but the way it softened when you beamed up at him was sweet enough to make Plumeria’s teeth ache. She wouldn’t be needing any candy if she continued watching the two of you, your lips lifted into a teasing smile as you tugged at his closed fist.

 

. . .

 

“Oh, you definitely got some of the candy,” your eyes twinkled with intent as your fingers tried to reach the fist, he had stubbornly raised to a point that you couldn’t reach. “Don’t be so selfish.”  

 

“Hm? I’m selfish? Sure,” the white-haired male nodded in agreement as he watched your face twist into something more frustrated, nose wrinkling as you tried again to reach his arm. “But at least I don’t sabotage speeches.” A knowing smirk appeared on his lips as an indignant huff came from your lips, but before you could give him your likely witty retort his arms come to your waist to pull you flush against him.

 

“I didn’t think he would actually do it,” your protests were half-hearted at best, but as you continued your eyes were soft with an emotion that Guzma was now more familiar with. “Besides Plumeria was about to just call it quits anyway, I just thought that this way would’ve been a little more fun.” While you were speaking, your hand had snuck its way into Guzma’s hoodie pocket to fish out a block of chocolate.

 

“Baby doll,” the endearment was laced with a warning note, his gray eyes darkening as he watches you swiftly unwrap the sweet and pop it into your mouth. “That was mine.” The arms that were resting low on your waist tightened so that your chest was pressed right against him, forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.

 

You don’t deign to reply to him, too busy savouring the chocolate that melted in your mouth, pink tongue quickly sweeping across your lips to pick up any stray shavings. But just as he was about to get a taste of that chocolate himself, something hit your back and pushed you so hard against him that he toppled.

 

Well to be fair, both of you toppled and ended up on the floor, sprawled embarrassingly as Plumeria tsked, a rock-hard muffin she made for the party in her left hand. You were up in less than a second and had launched yourself at the laughing woman, while the party became ever more chaotic. Guzma didn’t even realize his lips had lifted gently at the corners, eyes soft with the affection he held for not just you, but this place and all its inhabitants.

 

Seeing the way everyone glowed with happiness that he could see from you since day one, he knew that he accomplished something that no one could ever take away from him. With this certainty in his heart, he allowed the repressed elation to wash over him in a way he had yet to feel.

 

Guzma wasn’t perfect, in fact, he was far from it. Even now, there are times that his anger gets the best of him, making him lash out and hurt others in ways that he never would have intended. It wasn’t always easy admitting that he needed help or reaching out for said help, but with a staunch support by his side, it made the difficult just that much easier. The change that so eluded him during his youth had been coaxed to life by you and turned into a roaring fire by himself.

 

He would never be perfect, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy in his own dysfunctional and chaotic way. Which is what he carried with him along with a wild grin as he dove right into a mess of a party that could only be held by Team Skull and you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that is a wrap, sorry this took so long but I have been guiltily distracted by a chinese web novel. but regardless, this is the final end, with a mostly happy everybody and a Po Town that should have been. this has been a fun project, and while it is riddled with errors, it is my very first full length story. mayhap I will get around to editing it, but for now, that is it. 
> 
> and that is enough rambling! thank you all for sticking around, I hope you all had a fun time!


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